D
Draconias Galactica
Guest
This story has no name. This story has no quality. This story is posted below. Enjoy.
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The main problem with being lost in the middle of the desert is that
every damn thing looks the same, so it's pretty likely you're gonna
stay lost. I think I passed up this rock fifteen times already, but
every rock here looks the same so what do I know? Did I pass up these
grains of sand? Maybe they're following me. Hell, weirder stuff has
happened.
The second problem is that you have nothing to drink. My tounge is
hanging out my mouth like some mutt's tounge, and it's drier than the
damn dirt. I was shouting outloud a few hours ago about how fucking
stupid I am for wandering off into the desert. Now I'm stuck thinking
at myself about what a fucking moron I was, wasting spit on that rant.
The third problem is something that, go figure, would only apply to me.
The third problem is currently breathing down my neck, tracking my
footsteps. The third problem is probably walking around in a circle,
sharing problems #1 & 2 with me, the dumb bastards. The third problem
is a group of about three guys with riffles who think I screwed their
wife. I'm pretty sure they said their wife, and not their wives. Like I
said, weirder stuff has happened.
From the stories my grandpa told me, in the old days this place would
have been covered in cacti. A cactus is some green thing with needles.
The needles, he said, would jump into your skin if you touched the
green thing and they hurt like hell. Still, the way he talked about it,
it was as if he missed them. Idiot.
I'm pretty sure my grandpa taught me how to survive in the desert, but
most of the stuff he mentioned involved cactus. Drink the cactus, he
said. They're made of water. In the old days, then, this place would be
filled with green water standing up with thorns on it. This place
used to be a lot weirder. Now it's a lot of dry dirt and no damn clouds
to block the sun.
At this point, I've decided to give up on watching the sand to make
sure it's not following me. I'm now looking for cacti. They should be
pretty entertaining. I'm not too interested in drinking them, though,
since green water means Death took a piss in it.
The way I see it, these cacti will lead me to Death. That's why I'm
looking for them. I have a score to settle with Death, and I'm gonna do
it by ripping off his balls and stuffing them down his fucking throat
before putting a bullet in-between his eyes. Death owes me big time.
My grandfather told me that Death was a guy in a big black robe with a
sickle. I don't know what the hell a sickle is, but I figure I can spot
a guy in a big black robe. The only person in a desert who would be
wearing a black robe would Death. I'm gonna kill him. I'm not too sure
how you kill Death, but I'll figure that out when I see him.
Death is in this desert. The map I found in town said this place was
his valley. So here I am. In the middle of a desert. Looking for Death.
Maybe I'll use myself as bait - it's hard to tell me from a zombie on
my good days anyways. There's not a lot to eat except people who die
from not eating, and they don't have much on them. Good thing I like
bones.
While I was in town, somebody mistook me for someone else. Three
somebodies. Problem three. Three people in problem three. That worked
out pretty well. Glad I didn't make them problem eighty nine. Hell,
I've got a million problems right now, and you guys can just take a
number. But they didn't want to do that. They wanted to take me out to
the edge of town and feed me to some dogs.
Aparently, I fucked their wife. Then I blew her brains out. And then,
even worse, I chopped her up into a gajullion peices so nobody else
could fuck her. They were more interested in the chopping up part than
the brains part. Like I said, weird things happen. Weirder things have
happened, though. I just wish I could have had the pleasure of fucking
her before I cut her into a gajullion peices, she sounded like a nice
lady.
They didn't get around to feeding me to any dogs. I ran the hell away
before then. This valley was a big place, and I was gonna need a lot of
time to cover it all. I really should have brought that map, though.
I'm a fucking idiot. I have guys with guns after me. I have no water.
I'm wandering around in a desert, looking for something green so I can
find Death.
What's that on the horizon? Shit, it's those three guys. Or it's a
mirage. I've been seeing a lot of them lately. I don't really care,
though. I'm hot, angry, and at least this way Death might come to
_me_, instead of me having to waste time looking for _it_. Of course
they're going to kill me first, but...damn this plan sucks.
It's about time to start running like hell. There's a dustcloud behind
me already. My flapping tounge is somewhere fifteen miles back.
The problem is - problem number four I think, I'm going to fast to
check my fingers - is that those bullets they're firing
are faster than me. And there one goes, right through my kneecap. It
stings. It burns. It fucking _hurts_. So does falling flat on your face
in the middle of a 9-million degrees-sand desert.
Their guns are boiling hot from the sun. Good thing my head was already
as hot as hell, otherwise it might hurt when they shoved their guns
into the side of my head. I didn't kill their wife. They don't care. I
didn't cut her. They don't care. There's a guy in a black robe behind
them. They don't live long enough to not care.
And there's Death. My "plan" worked perfectly - here he is, robe,
sickle, skeleton and all. He might be a mirage or something, but who
cares? It's about damn time he sowed up too. Hey jackass, I shout. He
looks up. It's real creepy when a skull with no eyes stares at you. You
don't have any proof he's staring at you, but you can feel it.
You killed my dog! He doesn't care. Those three dead guys on the
ground don't care. Nobody in town cared. Nobody cares! I want my dog
back you mother fucker, I shout. He's raising his sickle. Grandpa
didn't say anything about Death having balls. But still, he seeems to
stop when I clench where they should be in my hands, tight.
I'm talking to you shitface! Death is definatly a guy - I'm trying to
crush something very solid with my hands. I want my dog back! Death
sits down. Actually, he falls down. I don't let go of his balls. He
says he didn't kill my dog. He says he didn't kill those guys' wife. He
says he just took them away to somewhere. Where? He says he can take
me.
Is my dog there? He sure is Death says. Then Death starts ranting about
how so's the few billion people that got killed in that nasty fire
storm a few years back and about how overworked he's been lately, but I
don't give a shit. I want to see my dog. Death says for me to take his
hand, and he'll take me there.
What the hell, I say, and I grab his hand, not realizing I just let go
of his balls until it's too late. By too late, I mean the second I let
go, he raised his sickle and less than a blink later brought it down on
me. Death's a tricky bastard. He's also got this cocky ass grin on his
dead face. Oh well, at least now maybe I'll get out of this damn
desert. Maybe I'll get to see my dog.
--- --- --- --- ---
[P ALIGN=right]-Draconias Galactica
[A HREF=http://upperpage.tripod.com/]-http://upperpage.tripod.com[/A]
--- --- --- --- ---
The main problem with being lost in the middle of the desert is that
every damn thing looks the same, so it's pretty likely you're gonna
stay lost. I think I passed up this rock fifteen times already, but
every rock here looks the same so what do I know? Did I pass up these
grains of sand? Maybe they're following me. Hell, weirder stuff has
happened.
The second problem is that you have nothing to drink. My tounge is
hanging out my mouth like some mutt's tounge, and it's drier than the
damn dirt. I was shouting outloud a few hours ago about how fucking
stupid I am for wandering off into the desert. Now I'm stuck thinking
at myself about what a fucking moron I was, wasting spit on that rant.
The third problem is something that, go figure, would only apply to me.
The third problem is currently breathing down my neck, tracking my
footsteps. The third problem is probably walking around in a circle,
sharing problems #1 & 2 with me, the dumb bastards. The third problem
is a group of about three guys with riffles who think I screwed their
wife. I'm pretty sure they said their wife, and not their wives. Like I
said, weirder stuff has happened.
From the stories my grandpa told me, in the old days this place would
have been covered in cacti. A cactus is some green thing with needles.
The needles, he said, would jump into your skin if you touched the
green thing and they hurt like hell. Still, the way he talked about it,
it was as if he missed them. Idiot.
I'm pretty sure my grandpa taught me how to survive in the desert, but
most of the stuff he mentioned involved cactus. Drink the cactus, he
said. They're made of water. In the old days, then, this place would be
filled with green water standing up with thorns on it. This place
used to be a lot weirder. Now it's a lot of dry dirt and no damn clouds
to block the sun.
At this point, I've decided to give up on watching the sand to make
sure it's not following me. I'm now looking for cacti. They should be
pretty entertaining. I'm not too interested in drinking them, though,
since green water means Death took a piss in it.
The way I see it, these cacti will lead me to Death. That's why I'm
looking for them. I have a score to settle with Death, and I'm gonna do
it by ripping off his balls and stuffing them down his fucking throat
before putting a bullet in-between his eyes. Death owes me big time.
My grandfather told me that Death was a guy in a big black robe with a
sickle. I don't know what the hell a sickle is, but I figure I can spot
a guy in a big black robe. The only person in a desert who would be
wearing a black robe would Death. I'm gonna kill him. I'm not too sure
how you kill Death, but I'll figure that out when I see him.
Death is in this desert. The map I found in town said this place was
his valley. So here I am. In the middle of a desert. Looking for Death.
Maybe I'll use myself as bait - it's hard to tell me from a zombie on
my good days anyways. There's not a lot to eat except people who die
from not eating, and they don't have much on them. Good thing I like
bones.
While I was in town, somebody mistook me for someone else. Three
somebodies. Problem three. Three people in problem three. That worked
out pretty well. Glad I didn't make them problem eighty nine. Hell,
I've got a million problems right now, and you guys can just take a
number. But they didn't want to do that. They wanted to take me out to
the edge of town and feed me to some dogs.
Aparently, I fucked their wife. Then I blew her brains out. And then,
even worse, I chopped her up into a gajullion peices so nobody else
could fuck her. They were more interested in the chopping up part than
the brains part. Like I said, weird things happen. Weirder things have
happened, though. I just wish I could have had the pleasure of fucking
her before I cut her into a gajullion peices, she sounded like a nice
lady.
They didn't get around to feeding me to any dogs. I ran the hell away
before then. This valley was a big place, and I was gonna need a lot of
time to cover it all. I really should have brought that map, though.
I'm a fucking idiot. I have guys with guns after me. I have no water.
I'm wandering around in a desert, looking for something green so I can
find Death.
What's that on the horizon? Shit, it's those three guys. Or it's a
mirage. I've been seeing a lot of them lately. I don't really care,
though. I'm hot, angry, and at least this way Death might come to
_me_, instead of me having to waste time looking for _it_. Of course
they're going to kill me first, but...damn this plan sucks.
It's about time to start running like hell. There's a dustcloud behind
me already. My flapping tounge is somewhere fifteen miles back.
The problem is - problem number four I think, I'm going to fast to
check my fingers - is that those bullets they're firing
are faster than me. And there one goes, right through my kneecap. It
stings. It burns. It fucking _hurts_. So does falling flat on your face
in the middle of a 9-million degrees-sand desert.
Their guns are boiling hot from the sun. Good thing my head was already
as hot as hell, otherwise it might hurt when they shoved their guns
into the side of my head. I didn't kill their wife. They don't care. I
didn't cut her. They don't care. There's a guy in a black robe behind
them. They don't live long enough to not care.
And there's Death. My "plan" worked perfectly - here he is, robe,
sickle, skeleton and all. He might be a mirage or something, but who
cares? It's about damn time he sowed up too. Hey jackass, I shout. He
looks up. It's real creepy when a skull with no eyes stares at you. You
don't have any proof he's staring at you, but you can feel it.
You killed my dog! He doesn't care. Those three dead guys on the
ground don't care. Nobody in town cared. Nobody cares! I want my dog
back you mother fucker, I shout. He's raising his sickle. Grandpa
didn't say anything about Death having balls. But still, he seeems to
stop when I clench where they should be in my hands, tight.
I'm talking to you shitface! Death is definatly a guy - I'm trying to
crush something very solid with my hands. I want my dog back! Death
sits down. Actually, he falls down. I don't let go of his balls. He
says he didn't kill my dog. He says he didn't kill those guys' wife. He
says he just took them away to somewhere. Where? He says he can take
me.
Is my dog there? He sure is Death says. Then Death starts ranting about
how so's the few billion people that got killed in that nasty fire
storm a few years back and about how overworked he's been lately, but I
don't give a shit. I want to see my dog. Death says for me to take his
hand, and he'll take me there.
What the hell, I say, and I grab his hand, not realizing I just let go
of his balls until it's too late. By too late, I mean the second I let
go, he raised his sickle and less than a blink later brought it down on
me. Death's a tricky bastard. He's also got this cocky ass grin on his
dead face. Oh well, at least now maybe I'll get out of this damn
desert. Maybe I'll get to see my dog.
--- --- --- --- ---
[P ALIGN=right]-Draconias Galactica
[A HREF=http://upperpage.tripod.com/]-http://upperpage.tripod.com[/A]
