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 | Re: Carnage and Neo-Surrealism | |
| Posted By: Mazilurik | Date: 11/26/01 5:16 p.m. |
| In Response To: Re: All right, you (David Curry) A thousand bloodied daggers fell simultaneously from the black stormclouds above, coming to an apex three centimeters below my skull. I cried out in agony, and the cry came from the weapon in my hand, and from my lacerated skull poured out dozens of tiny little critters intent on the destruction of the universe. --They must be stopped, for heaven's sake! Run, while you still are able, knave! --Running will do little good here, methinks; the time for any action has long passed. --Then smite thy sword upon the earth, and never more claim to be a soldier! He screamed in agony as the dozens of tiny little critters intent on the destruction of the universe crawled through his feet (as they are wont to do) and began to digest his internal organs. I turned away, took out my rifle, and fired at the fencepost five feet forward; it broke in two, and at the same moment the clouds above were rent and scattered, and a voice came from above, resounding through the trees: --WHAT IN MY HOLY NAME DOST THOU THINK THOU ART DOING, WASTING AMMUNITION LIKE THAT AND DESTROYING FENCES WHEN THOU SHOULDST BY ALL RIGHTS BE KILLING THE DOZENS OF TINY LITTLE CRITTERS INTENT ON THE DESTRUCTION OF THE UNIVERSE? I DIDN'T GET HERE BY LETTING SLACKER/YOKELS LIKE THEE SHOOT FENCES AT LIBERTY! GO MAKETH THYSELF USEFUL, OR I SHALT SMITE THEE, MARK MY THUNDEROUS WORDS! The taste of victory now entered my mouth, and it tasted like blood, the blood of dozens of tiny little critters intent on the destruction of the universe. --Tonight I shall dine on my enemies, and they shall be delicious beyond measure. At that moment however, when I had raised my weapon to my shoulders and aimed at the tiny-little-critter-intent-on-the-destruction-of-the-universe-infested semiliving corpse of my commander, I froze within the air, seemingly unable to find the ground again, and soon the world around me disappeared into a black haze of nightmare and confusion, surrounded by a thousand souls of purgatory discussing monetary exchange rates at the 17th Street Bank in Wheeling. THE END, HOPEFULLY... --- Um, Mr. Curry, you wouldn't happen to have any of those pills with you at the moment, would you? And does anyone here know how to make those men in white suits stop coming to your door trying to sell you a one-room house with padded white walls and free room service? | |
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