Night of the Angolans

The Angolans came for us last night. Angola of course considers the Cabindan enclave to be part of its sovereign territory, and apparently no one from our operation had been paying off the blasted dos Santos Angolan regime. So dos Santos figured it was time for us to pay up and he sent the entire 141st Angolan regiment into the Cabindan enclave to wipe us out. Two Angolan tank columns performed a pincer movement to cut off our retreat, and then the Angolan infantry came pouring in. They were all over the place and they weren't stopping for shit. The whole scene was a mess and I ended up hiding in a fox-hole with the one-legged Obie. Obie said, "Yo McStallen, let's dee-dee man!" I replied, "You go!" So Obie hobbled out and I never saw him again. I remained in the fox-hole and covered myself with the body of a dead Angolan. Some of the other mercenaries barricaded themselves in the command bunker and called on our brass to pound our own position from their off-shore destroyer. But an Angolan missile sank our destroyer before it could fire, evoking erie memories of the Sheffield.

The explosions continued throughout the night, and I put on the dead Angolan's and blood-soaked uniform. I took out my K-bar and cut off his face, throwing the hot flesh on top of my own face. I crept outside the fox-hole and laid still until the morning, when the shooting finally stopped. As first light came, a young Angolan medic saw me and told me to stay calm because a "bird" was on the way. Soon thereafter they loaded me on a medical chopper and took me back to headquarters. The Angolan officials were unable to identify me (presumably because I was still wearing a mask of human flesh), and an Angolan officer named Muthareka interrogated me for a few hours, even administering a Voit-Kampff test. This Muthareka fellow told me he was looking for notorious global mercenaries, such as Ricky Beltran, Obie, Ricky Roma, Bunny and McStallen. I told him I didn't believe in God or the Devil, but I believe in McStallen, and that McStallen was now in a barbershop quartet in Skokie Illinois. Muthareka admitted he was unfamiliar with Skokie Illinois, but bought my story, and let me go- he'll never know how close he came to catching me.


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An Angolan tank pauses during its assault on our diamond mining operation. We knocked out three Angolan tanks, which were dinosaurs purchased from the Soviets in the late 1970s. Nevertheless, the Angolan ground forces eventually over-ran our position.



I left the Angolan military compound and got on a decrepit public bus headed into the Congo. I hadn't been there since Mobutu was in power, but I knew some Congolese rubber farmers that owed me a few favor; some years ago I had poisoned the river supply of a rival village as a personal favor to them, and now I called upon them to do a favor for me. So they're quartering me now in their squalid village, and I am going to lay low for a little bit while this Cabindan thing settles down. Their food is poor and their wireless connection dreadfully slow, but I suppose I should just be thankful to be alive.

I would like to close by apologizing for the recent lack of fantasy sports analysis on this blog; these last few days I have been very busy killing people and trying not to get killed, and I can assure you all that I shall return to the world of fantasy sports very soon.