Post by Warbird on Feb 28, 2016 17:32:09 GMT -5
Friday, February 16
Warbird is sitting in his Days Inn room, beer in hand asleep in the chair. Some drool is dripping off his mouth as he mutters in dream...
Warbird:
Flargh barglenard....
Flargh barglenard....
A few years earlier...
Voice:
Contact on left, cover!
Warbird:
FRAG OUT!
Voice:
Contact on left, cover!
Warbird:
FRAG OUT!
Warbird tosses a grenade into the upstairs window as he and four other marines dive for cover, firing as they go. The explosion throws rubble and some body parts all over the sandy streets. There is a small reprieve as the troops check to make sure they are ok, then AK fire rains down from many directions.
Warbird:
Sergeant! We're far outnumbered, we have to get back with the rest of the platoon!
Sgt. Johnson:
If you have a way out of this Corporal, Please tell us, otherwise Nut Up and shoot these goat fucker's!
Sergeant! We're far outnumbered, we have to get back with the rest of the platoon!
Sgt. Johnson:
If you have a way out of this Corporal, Please tell us, otherwise Nut Up and shoot these goat fucker's!
Warbird, already firing away, just tucked his head as rounds hit near him. As the Sgt, called for assistance, Warbird popped back up screaming his warcry, and then he saw it, a trail of smoke headed their way, and no time to shout a warning...
Back in the hotel...
Warbird:
NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Warbird:
NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Warbird screamed as he jumped out of his chair diving for cover. With a thud, he crashed through the small table and his head bounced off the dresser.
He lay there, covered head to toe in a cold sweat, blood trickling from a small cut over his eye.
The pain, the memories, they haunted him to this day. He couldn't out run them. Warbird stood with a curse and made his way for the shower, he needed more booze...
Sunday February 28, morning
Warbird is in his dressing room, and has just shut off the small tv/vcr combo.
Warbird:
Well, at least one of those shitheads had something to say...
Now, if I may, I'm going to retort...
Well, at least one of those shitheads had something to say...
Now, if I may, I'm going to retort...
Warbird sits down and directly addresses the camera.
Warbird:
Look here you Nigerian transplant, I don't care how hard your life was. Ooo, so you had to grow up on the streets. Whoopty fucking doo, I watched as several of my brothers were blown to bits. I remember their blood and guts all over as I lost consciousness on the streets of Iraq.
Seriously, that is the last memory I have of them. I spent way too much time bound and healing in a hospital bed with only the memory of that event to play over and over in my mind as a machine breathed for me. Everyone always says the unconscious aren't aware of their surroundings. Well for me, I remember pain, the feeling of choking on the tube down my throat, and the only reprieve I got from that was the constant reminder of how I ended up there.
You left the asshole of Africa to grow up on the streets of England? Yeah, bitch you don't know shit about having it rough. The only reason you can run your mouth about your delusional assumption of knowing me is because of the blood and death me and my brothers have trod through for over 200 years. You have that luxury because of the sacrifices we made. You should be glad you grew up under the blanket of freedom... Well, semi freedom of England that is... That we provided, and instead of trying to trash talk, you should be bowing down and sucking my balls for your very freedom to do that.
You want to know why? Because if you had grown up in Africa, or even in a non free England, you would have either been sold to slavery as a child, or if you were lucky, they'd have taken you as a young teen and gang raped you into either submission or death. And this is the thanks I get, some wanna be hardass stating that I'm just some piece of shit to be flushed down the drain...
Look here you Nigerian transplant, I don't care how hard your life was. Ooo, so you had to grow up on the streets. Whoopty fucking doo, I watched as several of my brothers were blown to bits. I remember their blood and guts all over as I lost consciousness on the streets of Iraq.
Seriously, that is the last memory I have of them. I spent way too much time bound and healing in a hospital bed with only the memory of that event to play over and over in my mind as a machine breathed for me. Everyone always says the unconscious aren't aware of their surroundings. Well for me, I remember pain, the feeling of choking on the tube down my throat, and the only reprieve I got from that was the constant reminder of how I ended up there.
You left the asshole of Africa to grow up on the streets of England? Yeah, bitch you don't know shit about having it rough. The only reason you can run your mouth about your delusional assumption of knowing me is because of the blood and death me and my brothers have trod through for over 200 years. You have that luxury because of the sacrifices we made. You should be glad you grew up under the blanket of freedom... Well, semi freedom of England that is... That we provided, and instead of trying to trash talk, you should be bowing down and sucking my balls for your very freedom to do that.
You want to know why? Because if you had grown up in Africa, or even in a non free England, you would have either been sold to slavery as a child, or if you were lucky, they'd have taken you as a young teen and gang raped you into either submission or death. And this is the thanks I get, some wanna be hardass stating that I'm just some piece of shit to be flushed down the drain...
Warbird grabbed the camera and his eyes glazed over, as if the man inside disappeared and some soulless monster took over...
Warbird:
As a matter of fact, because of your insolence and disrespect, I just may show you in person the beatings and pain they would have put you through... Your my bitch now!!!
As a matter of fact, because of your insolence and disrespect, I just may show you in person the beatings and pain they would have put you through... Your my bitch now!!!
The camera spins wildly and goes to static as Warbird tossed against the wall...
