Tag: war

Those Daring Young Men Without GPS And Their Flying Machines

721451

Trailing black smoke, Baron Von Schmidt’s mighty war zeppelin chugs across the Munich sky.
Henchmen with spiked helmets sing with the thrumming impeller blades, and the zeppelin begins its bombing run.
They open the portholes, hold out the bombs, and…
The Baron shouts a command to halt. The henchmen draw back their bombs and snuff out lit fuses while the nose of the zeppelin jerks upward.
“Nicht das London!” shouts the Baron.
There is an argument, and the navigator is thrown overboard, crashing through a church roof.
The Baron, ever the gentleman, apologizes and pays to have the roof fixed.

The Body

588846

A hiker stumbled over The Body last night.
Yes, that’s right – It’s The Body. Capital T, capital B.
He’s been out here long enough to grow stubble on his head, looking at the bits of scalp the vultures left.
You’d think a former Navy Seal would have been prepared for this rough terrain, but I don’t think Jesse Ventura had planned to be out in the desert long.
Or at all. Tracks led from the canyon. From the depth, wheelbase length and tread we’re thinking some kind of stretch-limo Hummer.
I squint, fold up the feather boa, and follow them.

RMA

732724

Sentinel 0893671 took a bullet to the CPU during the Chicago Riots.
SecureTech thought the damage was superficial and changed out the armorplate. But when 0893671 was deployed after the declaration of the Detroit Caliphate, it had a difficult time following the Rules Of Engagement.
Remote diagnostics revealed the problem – a miniscule bridging of the optical, audio, and air sampling circuits the techs had overlooked.
The burning tires, angry mobs, and calls to arms from the minarets had overloaded the security unit.
As chaos surged around it, 0893671 watched the honey-scented angels, wings jingling like silver bells as they flapped.

Esther’s Ghosts

662363

Esther had her grandson go up into the attic and bring down the box from the corner.
“It’s for the museum,” she said, rubbing her wrist where the numbers were.
Later that week, the museum thanked her for her contributions, but insisted that she sit for an interview.
“We’d like to add your memories to the collection,” they said.
“Let those memories die with me, please,” said Esther.
“Without ghosts to haunt us, it could happen again,” said the museum. “How easily we forget.”
Esther nodded, hoping that there would never again be the need to keep awful memories around.

Roast Duck

710318

During the winter, the King’s servants and advisors moved into the central rooms to converse fuel.
The oddest couple was the pairing of the court wizard and the head chef.
One night, the alarm was raised: ice demons at the gate!
The wizard grabbed a spell book and raced to the fight.
Without looking, he flipped to the page with Firestorm.
He read off a recipe for Roasted Rosemary Duck instead.
“It’s a cookbook?” he muttered.
The chef handed him another book. “I think this is yours,” he said.
They won the fight, and feasted on Roast Duck to celebrate.

Sevens

648247

Back in Springfield, Raul and I would climb up the willow tree, lay back on the branches, and watch the moon through the leaves.
We pondered important things up there.
“Who’d win in a fight: The Magnificent Seven or the Seven Dwarves?” asked Raul.
“I have no idea,” I said. “Let’s find out.”
We looked down from the tree and watched a group of men in Wild West gear square off against brightly-colored little people.
The echoes of gunfire.
The clang of heavy mining equipment.
Blood everywhere.
The dwarves would have lost if the singing broad hadn’t have showed up.

By The Axe

615337

Lying under a massive oak, his crushed chest filled with one last gasp of air, Earl remembered what his father told him many years ago.
“Live by the sword, die by the sword,” he said.
“But I don’t use a sword,” said Earl. “I use an axe.”
Earl’s father frowned. “I don’t know how you’ll die,” he said. “Maybe you should switch to a sword?”
“Swords aren’t very good at chopping down trees,” said Earl.
“Then I guess you’ll die by the tree,” said Earl’s father. “Live by the axe, die by the tree.”
“Timber,” whispered Earl, and he died.

Ice Cream Truck

500769

Explosions are ripping apart the skyline of the city, but the ice cream truck rolls on.
No music is playing, but not because the driver doesn’t want to be targeted. Those who would destroy his truck are hundreds of miles away from hearing it, manning the missile batteries and piloting the drones which unleash the death around him.
No, the music is off because there is no ice cream today.
The coolers are full, sure, but they are packed with the corpses of his neighbors.
He figured as long as the bombs were falling, why not settle a few scores?

El Tocino-Envuelto

712833

Where Pizarro failed, Sir Walter swore he’d succeed.
He’d find El Dorado, the legendary City of Gold!
Through all of his expeditions, he never did find El Dorado.
But he was quite fond of a town called El Tocino-Envuelto, which roughly translates to The Bacon-Wrapped One.
Where El Dorado was supposedly paved with gold, the streets of Tocino-Envuelto were paved with pork.
The Spanish outpost of San Thome was rumored to have the best applesauce in the New World. Raleigh craved it for his pork chops.
It would ultimately be his son’s death and, by the headsman’s axe, his undoing.

The Finisher

620040

They call us Finishers.
When the subject has nothing more of use to give, we finish them off.
Now and then, something of use comes out, like a final drop of lemon juice from a squeezed and pulverized lemon.
We don’t care. We’re there to punish, not interrogate.
Some administrator got it in their head that Finishers should be licensed medical practitioners. Never mind that we have one purpose: to cause harm. We cannot take the Hippocratic Oath.
That administrator vanished the other day.
Want to hear a tape of them screaming, or would you like to see their tongue?