Never a borrower or a lender be.... (1011 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.85 on 16 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by orph (View user info) at 2006-07-21 10:09:00 EDT
"Bass, how low can you go?" Public Enemy blared out at him as he tied his laces.
"Not much fucking lower Chuck, that's for fucking sure", Chris mumbled as he rose to his feet, his spine crackling as he stretched to his full height. A whiff shy of two metres, Chris was a scrawny, lanky pole of a man. Rough-cut blond hair hung to his shoulders, meeting the stained collar of his white cotton shirt. Blue jeans with ripped holes in the knees completed the ensemble.
He looked around the wreck of his apartment. The fucking-oh-my-god size hole left by the shelling last night allowed the soft morning breeze to tease the gauze curtains of his windows - or at least his window frames, the glass having long been blown out.
That bastard across the street had finally gotten hold of some heavy artillery. For Christ's sake, where do you find a fucking M-25 rocket launcher these days? They sure as shit don't sell them at K-Mart! Chris had been thinking these thoughts and similar ones since he'd dived back into his bedroom last night once his ears had picked up the tell-tale whistling that signified "INCOMING!"
"Will you fucking look at this place," he muttered to himself as he scratched his thin ass through the near-transparent covering of his denims. He kicked over a broken lump of plaster and what he assumed to be the twisted remains of his track trophy from 6th grade, groped around and finally found his missing AK-47. He found a grip on the magazine and dragged it out, looked at it for a second, then shaking his head, tossed it back into the rubble in disgust.
This was no time for a small-arms skirmishing; they'd been doing that for weeks to no avail. No, it was time for the big-one.
He peered through his new bay-window extension, and looked out at the yellow-bricked bungalow opposite. 'The bastard' looked like he'd just woken up, strolling down his front path in his bath-robe (red!) holding a steaming cup of coffee, wearing that smug grin that all bazooka-wielding psychopaths sport.
"Mornin' Chris", Rob said, as he bent down to pick up his morning paper.
"Yeah, hey Rob", Chris answered, all the while thinking 'I'll soon wipe that fucking grin off your face asshole'.
As Rob made his way back to his bullet-pock marked home, Chris, after a week of secret toil, put Plan Ultimate-Fuck-Over into action. He left his apartment, and using the inner staircase made his way down to the garage. Upon opening the door, a smile spread on his face quicker than a cheer-leaders' legs at a frat party. He moved into the room and ran his hands across the smooth metal-plating that covered what was once his ride on lawn-mower. Grass would no longer be the prey of this vehicle.
Twin .50 calibre sub-machine guns adorned a metal brace affixed forward of the steering wheel, with a slot cut through the front-armour plate that allowed him to fire whilst covered. Attached to each side, on brackets that were once his mountain-bike's wheel-frames, sat mortar tubes; their smooth, black casing causing a momentary shudder of excitement to ripple through Chris.
As he mounted the mower, he checked the swing device that held the cross-bow in place behind him, making sure that three bolts were loaded, and that the mortar loading tubes were in place.
Satisfied, he inserted the key, the modified 350 Chevy block engine roared to life. Hitting the remote on the roller door, he slowly rolled forward.
Rob, who'd set up a deck chair on his front patio was greeted with a horizontal flashing red light moving first one way, then the other on the front of a steel cocooned monstrosity that was gradually revealed beneath the block of flats that formed his vista. Chris had always loved the KnightRider, and couldn't resist the temptation to adorn his new toy with a Kit-esque LED display.
As the raised door uncovered more of the garages treasure, Rob's bemused look of curiosity turned to one of abject-horror.
"That's right mother-fucker!" Chris screamed, his voice projected through the mega-phone he'd fitted up as a last minute extra. Pressing play on his MP3 player kicked off the first bars of the 1812 Overture, a fitting soundtrack he thought for what was to come.
He gunned the engine and the beast jumped forward mounting the gutter with ease as it ploughed across the road and up into Rob's recently vacated front yard. A quick combination of button presses preceded the 'whoosh-whoosh' of two mortar rounds, and the living room was exposed to daylight, albeit a bit more roughly that the usual opening of the blinds.
He drove straight in, his left had guiding the fire of the sub-machine guns as he strafed the lemon wallpaper, poking holes through into the kitchen and the study. Rob appeared from behind the couch, and got off a couple of rounds before the three-seater exploded in a puff of leather and wood from another mortar round.
"These fucking mortars are ace!" Chris thought, as he dropped down a gear, leaving a trail of rubber on the plush cream carpet as he revved up and headed after Rob, who'd regrouped at the end of the hall, using the kitchen counter as cover. As Chris careened and bumped towards him, Rob swept up, and with one motion had the M60 steady on the bench-top and firing a stream of hot metal down the hall.
Pinging sounds rang out as the bullets hit the armour-plate on the mower and combined with the cannon blasts from Chris' headphones as Tchaikovsky really got warmed up. More strafing with the subs soon put Rob on the defensive, and the last of the mortars removed the counter, leaving a smouldering crust of linoleum and plastic, easily overcome by the thick-tread tyres of the mower.
This was it!!! Rob was backing up against the half-exposed bathroom where an earlier round had removed any distinction between the cooking and cleaning areas of the house. A quick spray of bullets stopped him jumping behind the tub. Rob turned and slumped down the wall, visible defeated as he slowly slid until his butt found purchase on the debris strewn floor.
"How do you like them apples, eh!!!" Chris screamed triumphantly as he skidded to a halt in front of his vanquished foe. He grabbed Rob by the scruff of his neck and frog-marched him back into the lounge room, dumping him in front of the overturned video rack. Dejectedly, Rob sorted through the contents until finally he found it.
Handing over the dust covered copy of season 3 of the Dukes of Hazard, he said "Yeah sorry Chris, I was gonna return it, honest!!"
User Reviews
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2007-04-20 04:09:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"a fitting soundtrack he thought for what was to come."
My opinion is that you could have dropped "he thought" because it opened up the possibility that he was wrong. I was waiting for Rob to somehow turn it all around on Chris, because of that "he thought".
It could perhaps have been replaced with "he felt", but the sentence would have carried without either.
Submitted by Amontillado (user info) at 2007-04-03 08:49:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
wtf?
Submitted by Uberjunkie (user info) at 2006-08-24 13:15:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Bravo!
Submitted by DudeThatsBOSH (user info) at 2006-08-24 13:01:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
this was excellent
Submitted by DudeThatsBOSH (user info) at 2006-08-24 12:57:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
hahahahaha
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-07-21 19:23:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-07-21 15:38:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by mc (user info) at 2006-07-21 13:50:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
heh, nice. WTF is "frog" marching though?
Submitted by joedaddy (user info) at 2006-07-21 12:34:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
.
Submitted by Merlina (user info) at 2006-07-21 11:44:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
awesomenes
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2006-07-21 11:19:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was pretty good, a few typos, but funny as fuck.
Submitted by alwayspeach1 (user info) at 2006-07-21 10:53:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by ubetidid (user info) at 2006-07-21 10:50:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
funny
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2006-07-21 10:33:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was fucking wonderful!
Submitted by professorfuckface (user info) at 2006-07-21 10:20:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
http://gabbly.com/www.ubersite.com
Submitted by Antioxident (user info) at 2006-07-21 10:13:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment