The Head (pt. 2) (217 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 0 on 2 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by garudave <misterkick.at.gmail.com> (View user info) at 2007-02-25 23:07:46 EST
PT 1: http://www.ubersite.com/m/98962
Cold, desolate, a wasteland. A man struggled forth. Encased in a large fur-lined coat, his body became a clumsy shell, almost as if he were a turtle trying to learn to walk on two feet. A large man, he was not, nor was he innately well-suited to face the oncoming blizzard. He was gifted, however.
A large ceramic jug hung at his side. Every hundred feet or so, he stopped to swig back the warm liquid within... it was scotch, and a fairly high-quality one at that.
Some days into his forward motion, he found what he was looking for. In the distance, a massive, majestic beast foraged randomly amongst the fresh powder. He squinted, watching it for a moment, noting its mannerisms and how they weren't quite natural. Only a slight pause to drink held him back from charging the bear, full-on.
The two clashed, but there was no battle. The man opened his arms, and grabbed the fur on the neck of the bear, swinging himself up onto its back. Pulling with one hand and pushing with the other, he twisted the bear's head clean off, with inhuman strength. The head dropped to the ground, but there was no blood. Wires and tubing stretched and snapped as the bear's skull was separated from the body. The man hopped off of the robot, or whatever it was, and kicked the head a few feet away. "Hm," he said. "I figured as much." He drank.
"What do you want?" asked the bear's severed head, startling the man. "Who are you?"
Annoyed that the sudden exclamation had caused him to forfeit his brew, the man groaned. "I'm the Scotsman."
"Is that so? You don't sound very Scottish to me." The voice was distorted, since it was being transmitted through the arctic wind, but it sounded like a man's.
Shrugging, the Scotsman walked over to the robotic head and picked it up, looking into its eyes. "It's just a nickname. I hear a man lives out this way, a Mr. Allard. I'm looking for him."
"Look no further," Hank Allard said, standing behind the Scotsman and speaking into a walkie-talkie. "He is behind you."
The Scotsman turned to catch a bullet right in the chest.
User Reviews
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-02-26 22:21:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by garudave (user info) at 2007-02-26 22:05:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
LOL, I'm uber-meaningless.