Friday, August 22, 2014

loco gringo 8.7


Randy retraced his steps to the entrance and glanced casually outside the building.  Nothing was stirring, especially not the dismembered mouse about now half way to becoming cat scat.  Once John was at his back they both went out, intent on continuing Mission Steal Beg Or Borrow Some More Food So Their Future Didn’t Look Half As Crap Filled As Before.  Or, when the mood for brevity struck, otherwise known as Mission Anti-Ethiopian.  Randy had already re-sheathed his bayonet, although a bit wistfully as that bad mambajamba looked wicked cool-yo, in realistic expectation that sooner rather than later he would misstep and end up hurting himself so best to not tempt the befouled temptresses of fate.  Which was probably not the worst idea he had ever had because less than three strides out the door the air was suddenly filled with flying projectiles accompanied by the loud retort of ammunition detonation and the dust was violently disturbed all around them.  Randy had time for one or two stray thoughts, mostly revolving around how in this small Podunk town there shouldn’t be THAT damn many people out to shoot him without yet knowing him, before he and John careened against each other, fell in a tangle of asses and elbows ( hence the fortunate position of his Pig Sticker ) and beat feet back towards the building.  Miraculously not once being hit, scratched or otherwise affected by the unfriendly barrage directed against them.


“I will be double dog dry dicked.  Unfriendly bunch.” A pitter and patter against the outside sheet metal building announced the continuation of the assault.  “What are they trying to shoot?  The building, or us?”

“I’m sure they hold a special begrudging attention on our persons, but they sure are killing the hell out of this place.  Which never harmed them.  Why must we hate different colored buildings?”
“Do you think they have someone around the back? “
“I say if they do, it’s less than in the front.  Let’s give it a try.  I’ll get a pair of bolt cutters to get out the door by the loading dock.  You stay to keep them from entering.  I’ll come back and get you, then I’ll be the first one out and you cover the front, covering me from behind.  If I get shot, you’re fucked, trapped on both ends.  If not, we get the heck out of here.”
“Wish you had stayed back home?”
“And miss this shit?”

“It is the most fun you can have with your clothes on.”
“You take off your clothes for sex?  I thought you’d be done in less time than it took to disrobe.”

“I just don’t want Monkey Juice on my clothes.  Cuts down on wash days.  Conserving water to help Mother Gaia because I fucking care.  Next up, we get a Prius and start an Al Gore fan club.  Can we get this show on the road?  By about bullet 672 someone is bound to hit one of us and it might be me.”
“Away we go.  And if we don’t make it, remember, you were the sunshine that flew out of my ass.”
“Love you too, brother.”

Please support Bison by buying through the Amazon ad graphics at the top of the page. You can purchase anything, not just the linked item. Enter Amazon through my item link and then go to whatever other item you desire. As long as you don’t leave Amazon until after the order is placed, I get credit for your purchase.  For those that can’t get the ads because they are blocked by your software, just PayPal me occasionally or buy me something from my Amazon Wish List once a year.


All My Contact Info, Books For Sale, Links:


1 comment:

  1. My guess? three assailants with semi- autos (or formerly semi-auto) and no fire control and little range time so lots of misses. AKA the cops.