Namibian Outlaws (470 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.4 on 6 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by matchoo (View user info) at 2005-09-16 07:11:56 EDT
I have always been a big fan of water pistols. There is something incredibly satisfying about nailing someone in the face from 2 metres away. My friends and I used to spend an embarrassingly large amount of time after getting our licences doing drive-byes. This may sound retarded, but the look of pure shock on a cyclist's face after being blasted with a supersoaker2000 out of the window of a speeding car is something to behold.
I was up in Namibia a couple of years ago. For those of you unfamiliar with the South-Western side of Africa, Namibia is a place with lots of scrub, and practically nothing else. There are however, small and exciting towns in the middle of nowhere where, on average, 10 people called Hennie, (who happen to all be related to one other) spend their days farming. The local hangout is generally the petrol station where the trucks stop.
So you must understand the levels of boredom involved in travelling this crappy and largely uninteresting country. It is fantastically beautiful in parts, if you're the type of person who uses the panoramic function on their camera - but if you're there to work, it stinks. In one of the bigger dorps, I found this absolute beauty of a gun - 3litre, pump action, selective nozzle bastard. It was too good to be true. Just holding it in my hands brought back happy memories of screaming women and begging children. I had to have it.
A water pistol is only as good as the trouble it causes. The chap that I was driving with and I started getting pretty bored with shooting at tumbleweed and each other. I retold a couple of my past exploits with the guns, especially with the shotgun style one we affectionately used to call 'the innocent bystander'. My buddy is a bit of a mischievous sort. Actually, he's a bit of a criminal sort, and always ready to cause shit whenever the opportunity presents itself. After many hours of driving, I think cabin-fever was beginning to set in and he had got to the point where he was suggesting some crazy plans.
Just before the next town, we donned balaclavas (It gets pretty cold there at night), and filled up the beast from our water bottle. Ready for action!
Flying into the rest-stop, I slammed on anchors and skidded to a halt. My friend jumped out of the car and ran into the shop clutching the gun like frikkin' Rambo or something. I'm surprised he didn't dive-roll.
I'm not sure if it was the Namibian heat, or endless hours of driving that caused us to take this idiotic plan into fruition. Whatever it was, it probably would have been a better idea to think about it a little more. Having thought about it, we would have realised that these guys are so used to being held up by now that they probably have their own very efficient and blunt way of dealing with problems like this. Ways that didn't involve a stern talking to from somebody's mother and a rap on the knuckles.
Back to Sly Stallone and the dodgy little rest-stop. So he goes barrelling in there and screams "FREEZE MOTHERFUCKER!" to the poor woman behind the counter.
Just as she begins to scream he blasts her full in the face with the beast. The box says that it can push out a litre every five seconds. I wouldn't be surprised.
Laughing like a crazed hyena, he comes sprinting out of the shop. The woman had obviously pressed the panic button, because the next thing we know the alarm is screaming out into the desolate Nambian evening. He makes it to about 5 metes from the car when the local farmer comes around the corner with his rifle in his hand.
It's worth mentioning at this point the mentality of the local farming community. It's fairly similar to the boer mentality you'll find in South Africa. Ask Iradney, she lives in an area with lots of these guys. Their motto is: shoot first, make biltong and have a braai later. Just a couple of months ago, a farmer in the Eastern Cape shot his own daughter, thinking that she was a robber stealing his shit. Savages, I tell you.
Not many of these thoughts crossed my mind at this point. All I had was my brain screaming at me to get the fuck out of there, and fast!
So there's this farmer, beer-stomach and all, dressed in khaki with HUGE bloody elephant gun or something, running as fast as his kuiken-bene will take him. As my friend jumps into the car he cracks a shot off. I swear I heard the bullet whining past the car window. I floored the accelerator and shot out of the station, with my friend screaming 'GO YOU FUCKER, GO!' in my ear. I still don't know whether he was referring to me, or the car. In the rear-view mirror, I could see the farmer lining up for another shot.
This story could get a little longer at this point, but it won't. We got the hell out of there unscathed, though the adrenalin hangover was something nasty. Instead, here is a picture of the beast in its full glory, once I got back to Cape Town. If you were wondering about the apple lollipop, she's actually really nice...
User Reviews
Submitted by iradney (user info) at 2006-10-21 07:22:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
matchoo, you devil you!
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-09-16 16:29:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
pretty good - at least you're original - post more African hijinx, please!
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2005-09-16 10:00:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
your gf has NAAA
Submitted by Barnymeinhoff (user info) at 2005-09-16 07:44:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
pretty cuntish behaviour.
Submitted by Fabit (user info) at 2005-09-16 07:22:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
God bless water fights.....
Submitted by professorfuckface (user info) at 2005-09-16 07:13:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Nimbin
Oh, Nimbin
My Nimbin
Nimbin