Tag: war

Caretakers

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The war is over, declared the machines.
Sensors watched the radiation levels drop.
When they were low enough, probes went out to scan the planet for signs of life.
Not much, but some.
The machines gathered up what they could.
As cleanup systems went to work on the ruins, genetic templates kept in storage were imposed onto the surviving organics to undo the ravages of mutation and gamma-ray damage.
Some genetic lines died. Some survived.
As each landmass was declared safe, replanting and restocking routines seeded the planet with life again.
The machines sank under the oceans and shut down.

You’ve Got To Know When To Fold ‘Em

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Because of a shortage of buglers, military funerals often use a recording of a bugler performing Taps.
However, there’s no shortage of flags, so there’s always flags available to drape over coffins for folding and presentation to the next-of-kin.
The flag is folded by the honor guard in a specific order so that it results in a small blue triangle with white stars.
Some potheads have been known to employ their knowledge of the Japanese art of Origami to come up with more interesting shapes.
The rifle party handles those jokers by beating them with the butts of their weapons.

Teaspoon

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The aliens don’t like water.
And for good reason. All it takes is just a little water to kill them. A teaspoon.
Walking around outside without an environment suit is like torture.
This is why it’s so important to keep them under guard around the clock.
People can be such jerks.
Tearing off a suit, knocking an alien into the water.
The worst was when some joker hacked the fire suppression system in the alien embassy.
The United Nations buildings ignored fire codes, but not the embassy.
That’s how the war started… and the oceans, rivers and lakes slowly vanished.

Grow Them Bigger

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“Close your eyes,” said the General. “And cover your ears.”
Seconds later, chunks of bloody, flaming Godzilla rained down on Tokyo.
The General uncovered his ears and opened his eyes.
And smiled.
People all over the city were cheering.
Getting the monster to eat the bomb without damaging it was a challenge.
Sticking pieces of the bomb in dead cow carcasses was the solution.
“They’re smart-assembly components,” said the General. “When they were all inside, they integrated and armed.”
After the cheering, bulldozers pushed Godzilla’s remains into the bay.
Where, slowly and painfully, they started to slide back together again…

Teleport

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Professor Blaine had proven that the teleporter worked on inanimate objects and living things many times, but the government had yet to give him approval to test it on humans.
So, one evening, he volunteered himself.
Every atom and quantum-state in his physical body were moved from the first scanner-pad to the second.
But the system failed to transport his soul.
When the professor read the letter from the Defense Department, commandeering his research for weapons research, instead of tossing it into the trash as he’d done to the first letter they’d sent, he shrugged and signed the transfer orders.

Cinco

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We prepare for Cinco de Mayo.
Putting boards over the windows, pulling the cars into the garage and locking it.
We don’t bother gardening in April anymore. It would just get torn up and thrown into our driveway or on the roof.
The press doesn’t call it rioting anymore. They keep saying it’s a peaceful demonstration. A parade.
Say that to our former neighbors, who watched their homes burn down.
We got lucky that year. Only the shed got hit.
The fence had new razor-wire on it.
Pull the gates shut, and load your shotgun.
And happy Cinco de Mayo.

Puppet Regime

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We watch the enemy’s soldiers march into the capital.
Buildings burn. The Resistance is crushed, strung up from the castle walls.
Not by their necks, but by their hands, feet, and joints.
It is one things to be forced to follow the command of a puppet regime, but being told to bow to a marionette regime is even more humiliating.
The old Prime Minister is pranced around the massive stage with a club in his hand.
“WHERE’S THE BABY?” shrieks the enemy from the battlements in his best Punch falsetto.
Fiendish monsters! We will prevail, and make hand-puppets of them.

Johnny comes marching home…

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When Johnny comes marching home again, we won’t be singing Hurrah Hurrah.
No, we’ll be waiting behind the woodshed with knives.
Johnny may think he’s a big hot-shot war hero, but his brothers who went to the front with him sent back letters saying otherwise.
A lousy shot.
A worthless coward.
A loose-lipped traitor.
He may think he made the explosion look like an artillery shell accident, but Tomkins saw it. And he sent the letter before Johnny finished him off, too.
We hear his horse come up the path, draw our knives, and his whistling grows louder.
STAB HIM!

The Viking Attack

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It was around two in the morning that Mike the security guard got it in his head to protect the office building from Viking attack.
Maybe it was his medication, or it could have been the booze.
Probably both.
He didn’t have a backhoe to dig a moat or pile up earthworks, but he did manage to park the golf cart in the lobby to block the doors.
Soda machines were far too heavy for him to move, but couches from the lobby were perfect.
When he was fired, he disputed the termination with: “Well, no Vikings got through, right?”

The Bull

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Most Vikings carry an axe or a sword, but I know one who likes to bend down and charge his opponents like a bull, using the horns on his helmet as weapons.
They call him “The Bull”, oddly enough.
After years of charging and bashing into things, his face looks like a mashed up wad of yak guts, so when his longboat lost its dragon figurehead on the prow, he told his crew to lash him up there.
Not only does he look horribly menacing, but I think it’s the best washing the stinky old barbarian has had in decades.