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fiction
Just when I'd gotten used to the apocalyptic street preachers crying out that the "END IS NEAR" every five minutes, they came back in season, and before I could rush back to the flat to grab the glock Dez gave me for Christmas, half the street was running red with the blood of the mad prophets of South Main.
I could have bagged one or two, but some ass with an automatic pistol was spraying randomly and I had to dive behind a couple of nuns for cover. I'll say this for the brides of Christ, they sure can stop a bullet. About ten seconds after getting Sister Mary Fatass off my lower back, I notice that one of the last surviving street preachers downed the pistol user with an overhand placard at 50 paces. Damn thing shot through the air like a javelin and knocked the bastard off balance from his rooftop position. Damn shame about that street preacher though. I'm sure what's left of him will wash off the semi, given enough time.
So I finally made it back to the second floor hovel to grab the Glock, and wouldn't you know it, I'm out of bullets. Must have used the last clip yesterday in the drunken furor against the neighbors who wouldn't turn off Fox News. Damned if I'm going to listen to that shit at the ungodly hour of 8 in the mornng. Some of us are trying to sleep off a hangover, and neighbors have no consideration for that.
Fuck it, I'll just have to go down to Harry's, barter some of those cut-rate college student kidneys away for another couple hundred rounds, and hope that Amway salesmen are on the hunting list for tomorrow.
I could have bagged one or two, but some ass with an automatic pistol was spraying randomly and I had to dive behind a couple of nuns for cover. I'll say this for the brides of Christ, they sure can stop a bullet. About ten seconds after getting Sister Mary Fatass off my lower back, I notice that one of the last surviving street preachers downed the pistol user with an overhand placard at 50 paces. Damn thing shot through the air like a javelin and knocked the bastard off balance from his rooftop position. Damn shame about that street preacher though. I'm sure what's left of him will wash off the semi, given enough time.
So I finally made it back to the second floor hovel to grab the Glock, and wouldn't you know it, I'm out of bullets. Must have used the last clip yesterday in the drunken furor against the neighbors who wouldn't turn off Fox News. Damned if I'm going to listen to that shit at the ungodly hour of 8 in the mornng. Some of us are trying to sleep off a hangover, and neighbors have no consideration for that.
Fuck it, I'll just have to go down to Harry's, barter some of those cut-rate college student kidneys away for another couple hundred rounds, and hope that Amway salesmen are on the hunting list for tomorrow.
Erm... Ok...
Re: Erm... Ok...
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And you still haven't answered me as to where the fuck you got that icon...