A Beltran Too Far
Yesterday I settled all my business with Ricky Beltran. I tracked him back to his Sudanese hide-out, a sprawling urban bunker near one of Khartoum's many bridges. I checked out his place with my binoculars and could see dozens of sandbags, a .50, some other light ordinance, and a few guards- probably just old men and children. Peace of cake. Juan and I drove down the street in my tank and I figured we could just take Beltran right out. But when we got with-in 50 meters, an anti-tank round whizzed from the bunker and blew off our tread. Our tank was disabled and it was time for Plan B.
Juan and I waited for nightfall and then approached the bunker on foot. We brought a flame thrower with us and we were going to burn up the whole place. But we had to make sure we got him with the first burst; as soon as we fired we would give away our position, and Beltran and his guards could put alot of heat our way. We crept behind a dumpster across the street and got ready to fire. I aimed into the bunker and pulled the trigger on the flame-thrower, but Juan bumped my arm, causing the flames to miss the target by about 5 meters. We hit the deck.
I yelled, "You clumsy idiot! You bumped my arm!"
Juan yelled back, "Ju was moven!"
Then suddenly the whole bunker went up like a Roman candle. Hot rounds, claymores, missiles, everything went up.
"We hit the ammunition dump!" I screamed. Ordinance continued to go off and the whole street burned like Osage Avenue. Juan and I snuck out of there, but there's no way Ricky Beltran did. No one could have survived that. When I got down the street I blew my trumpet, because I wanted everyone in Khartoum to know who did this.
Children played on my tank in the outskirts of Khartoum only hours before I assaulted Ricky Beltran's urban bunker
While I was really happy that Ricky Beltran and his cronies burned like dogs, perhaps the best news I have is that Placido Polanco
hit a two-run walk-off dong as the Detroit Tigers beat the San Fransisco Giants 10-8 in extra innings today. Keep up the good work, Placido. Only god can judge you.
Juan and I waited for nightfall and then approached the bunker on foot. We brought a flame thrower with us and we were going to burn up the whole place. But we had to make sure we got him with the first burst; as soon as we fired we would give away our position, and Beltran and his guards could put alot of heat our way. We crept behind a dumpster across the street and got ready to fire. I aimed into the bunker and pulled the trigger on the flame-thrower, but Juan bumped my arm, causing the flames to miss the target by about 5 meters. We hit the deck.
I yelled, "You clumsy idiot! You bumped my arm!"
Juan yelled back, "Ju was moven!"
Then suddenly the whole bunker went up like a Roman candle. Hot rounds, claymores, missiles, everything went up.
"We hit the ammunition dump!" I screamed. Ordinance continued to go off and the whole street burned like Osage Avenue. Juan and I snuck out of there, but there's no way Ricky Beltran did. No one could have survived that. When I got down the street I blew my trumpet, because I wanted everyone in Khartoum to know who did this.
Children played on my tank in the outskirts of Khartoum only hours before I assaulted Ricky Beltran's urban bunker
While I was really happy that Ricky Beltran and his cronies burned like dogs, perhaps the best news I have is that Placido Polanco
hit a two-run walk-off dong as the Detroit Tigers beat the San Fransisco Giants 10-8 in extra innings today. Keep up the good work, Placido. Only god can judge you.
posted by McStallen at
1:41 PM
3 Comments:
you carry a trumpet?
Well it's actually a copper hunting horn given to me by Johhny Frost- it had been in a museum the last few years
http://www.airbornemuseum.org/nieuws/archief2003/jachthoorn_uk.htm
Apparently there are allied paratroopers all over Holland. This all sounds very serious. Someone better notify Her Feldmarschall von RunStedt.
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home