On Sun, 22 Oct 2017 16:00:50 -0700, Hell Broke Luce <
H...@tw.com>
wrote:
>
>>>How do you rank this "viciousness" compared to your declarations of
>>>death warrants?
>>
>>Death warrants?
>
>"Having" them killed? I submitted their names to those keeping
>theList."
>
>I guess you'll never admit that claiming you're having folks killed is
>a tad worse than name calling.
Having folks killed? Who was killed? Cliff? Lee Harrison? Farfoo?
There is a very long List of internet trolls who are no longer walking
this planet..but are buried in it.
Say.,..you left out the perfect name for yourself....Mabu!! A very
famous internet personality! Heart of steel!! Loafs have been
written about you!!!
Mabu and the Sound of Muzak
(where he liberates an office building but is driven nuts because he
can't shut down the polka music the last remaining office worker
programmed in before he split)
The Mabu and I
(a bittersweet love story involving Mabu and a psychotic school
teacher)
Mabu and the Temple of Doom
(an ill fated venture into Salt Lake City)
Catcher in the Rye
(Mabus first real homosexual experience)
and of course..the sequel
Seven Gays in May.
and the sequel to that..
The Mabuificent Seven
(enough already!.)
The Seven Spamuari
Mabus encounter with a group of Asian survivalists, bugging out in
Honda Crxs.( Loosely based on Road Warrior 2)
Mabu Revealed
(Mabus encounter with a traveling pot mender and itinerant shrink who
forces Mabu to confront the source of his angst.)
The Hot Zone
(Mabus clap flares up and his search for a cure)
the sequel.......
Mabu STD
and lastly...
Mabu's Hammer
(Mabu's frantic search for the only known surviving Acu-Jack)
Attending a Million Mom [sic] March, this last Mothers' Day, on
hearing
the bleeding heart cry about this innocent [sic] life, snuffed out by
a
five-cent bullet, I had to shout out "Where do you shop? They cost me
nearly a quarter!"
Jeffrey C. Dege
Didn't go over well.
This sounds just like you...Mabu...
r
7/26/01
He was a quiet man, and was even more quiet this morning..out of
cigarettes and Mt.Dew..his head was killing him, and he was not in the
best of humor, sucking on a No-Doz to fight the caffeine withdrawals
was
not much fun. Each blow of the hammer on the anvil seemed to cut like
a
dull knife to the center of his brain. He quenched the red hot carb
linkage in oil, and shut down the forge then fit the new linkage to
the
genset.
"Oh shit this is gonna hurt" he thought to himself as he primed the
carb, and pressed the start button. The genny rumbled, spit, then
fired
up to a low throaty rumble that made his head vibrate in time, as the
gages stabilized. He walked over to the mill, switched it on, and
working swiftly, finished up the scope mount for Sam's old Lee
Enfield.
He checked the charge on the battery banks, then shut off the genset
and
it coughed to a halt. The quiet man mounted Sam's scope, bore sighted
it
at a white rock out in the field, then clamped it down tight.
He stuck his head through the window, and warned his ladies that he
was
going to fire a few shots, then walked to his covered shooting bench.
Chambering a handloaded cartridge in the old Enfield, he held on the x
ring, and gently squeezed off a shot. Looking downrange, he saw he was
at 10 O'clock and 9 inches out. He adjusted the scope, and squeezed
off
another round.
" 2" high at 200 yards ..yup ..that's about right.."
He fired one more to verify, then collected the brass and walked back
to the house where the ladies were making lunch. Kissing each of them,
he patted Sandy's backside and copped a quick feel from Debbie as they
both broke up laughing at the black soot on his nose.
He asked Sandy to call Sam on the CB and tell him his rifle was done,
and come on up and get it. He settled on the rocker on the front
porch,
with a plate of beans, rice and homemade bread with a bit of rabbit on
the side, his old shepherd beside him, lying on her back, all four
legs
in the air, her nose sniffing the beans and bread. The quiet man
reached
down and tickled her tummy and she groaned in pleasure.
He had just settled down to eat in earnest., when faintly in the
distance came the sounds of gunshots. A rapid crackle interspersed
with
the booming sound of a shot gun. Faint screams drifted on the wind.
Grabbing his binoculars he scanned the town below him ..There! over at
8
o'clock.. a group of figures in black clothing were hunting cover as
they exchanged shots with the folks in the Blue house. The quiet man
ran
to his shooting bench, and grabbed his spotting scope and pointed it
down the hill. He was able to make out through the mirage ..a body in
the front yard of the Blue house and it looked like a young girl.. Jim
Blue's daughter, ..in a spreading pool of blood. At that moment..
Sandy
ran in, and told him that a group of marauders were attacking the
Blue
house and Jim and his family were calling for help on the CB. A tap
on
the shoulder and he turned to find Debbie holding his gear. He quickly
pulled on the kevlar vest and the web gear. He pulled the stainless
steel Paraord 45 automatic out of his regular hip holster, checked the
chamber to make sure it was loaded, seated the magazine again, then
slid
it into the shoulder holster hooked to his webgear. Sandy handed him
Thunder and the burlap bundle and he sprinted out to the shop and
wheeled all three mountain bikes back to the porch.
Sandy was checking the loads in her riot gun, her pistol already on
her hip, a bandoleer of shotgun shells over her shoulder. Debby was
putting on her Chicom chest pack, full of handloaded 7.62x39 ammo in
stripper clips, her holstered .357 on her left hip. They gave each
other
an equipment check, bounced on their feet listening for rattles or
clinks, then all three hugged each other tightly and they kissed him
deeply, then each other, their loaded webgear wedged between them.
"Lets do it" he said as they mounted their bikes and started to peddle
down the hill. He called to the girls.." I think #23 will be the best
spot" and they peddled between the tumbleweeds and sage brush on an
narrow rabbit trail to a hummock about 200 yds from the Blue house,
dropping the bikes and kept low as they ran to their positions. At
this
distance they had a good view of the marauders, as the quiet man and
his team hunkered down into predug fighting holes on the hillside.
Debbie about 50 yds out to the left, and Sandy about 100 yds higher
and
to the right, their fields of fire interlocking. Each hole was
surrounded by live sage, with low open spots below them. The quiet man
quickly unrolled a small tarp in front of him, and pulled his rolled
up
ghillie suit before him, resting Thunder on it, and started scanning
the
action below through its scope, a 168gr International handload in the
chamber of the 300 Winchester magnum, 4 in the magazine below it and
more laid out on the tarp near his right hand. He absently reached
down
and pressed the talk button on his FRS headset twice and was answered
by
two clicks then two more. Everybody was in position.
Mabu was pissed. He just knew that he should have called off the
attack
when he heard the 3 gunshots an hour before but they were in the hills
away from town and thought it was one of the redneck scum living in
this town hunting down a rabbit. He was cowering behind an ornamental
cactus after having run for his life when his men started receiving
incoming fire from the house they had targeted.
When Giggles head had exploded next to him covering him with slimy
brains and bone chunks , he just knew they were in the shit. It looked
so simple at first.. the blond teenager in the bikini sunning herself
in
the yard.. no one around except the old lady across the street.. fresh
meat for his appetite, and water, lots of water in that Doughboy pool.
He cursed that he should NEVER have taken that detour into the hills
away from the city, the heat had affected his judgment. Mabu thought
to
himself: " Its good that Giggle's got his shit blown away, it saved
him
from shooting the stupid bastard himself when he realized Giggle had
shot the girl by accident.. and she had such nice hooters too...
DAMNIT!
She would have made a great Slave girl once he broke her to his will.
Maybe she wasn't dead...or maybe she has a sister if he could live
long
enough to find her. "
The gunfire had dropped to sporadic pops as his troops kept up a
random
sniping fire with their 22s and shotguns. "Cease FIRE! Save your
bullets
you shit heads", he screamed!
Bobby hollered back at him.." Oh Great Mabu.. what do we do? I see
people gathering down the next block!" And it looks like they have
guns!
"Don't worry about them, they are just a bunch of country hicks.. we
can
kick their asses big time then take their women"
Bobby muttered "then why are we hiding behind a tree, and why is your
codpiece wet?"
Mabu reached out and slapped Bobby in the forehead with his Lorcin
.380
and Bobby dropped like a rock, shaking his head. Bobby leaned back
against the other side of the tree with a dazed expression on his
face,
trying to shake off the blow to the head, when his expression
suddenly
changed to a popeyed grimace as his chest exploded in a wild spray of
blood, bone and wood chips, then slumping down next to the quivering
tree. Mabu dropped flat, and looked up at a tiny hole in the two foot
thick tree beside him and looked around the other side to see a hole
the
size of his fist all the way into the wood. FUCK! he shrieked as his
sphincter let go, his bowels running down his leather chap clad leg.
"Retreat! To the Battle Trucks" as he low crawled to the Impala
parked
in the alley. He was conscious of a steady distant Booming sound and
with each BOOM came a WHAP! behind him. Glancing around he was in time
to see The Geek lift up on his toes and start dancing like a chicken..
mostly headless, a spray of blood from the severed arteries in what
was
left of a ragged neck that ended in the remnants of a jaw with only a
few teeth left in it. The body finally fell backwards and lay kicking
on
the pavement. Gun shots started sounding from down the block..
Whipping
the puke from his lips, he screamed
"Those hillbilly mother fuckers are coming!. Retreat! Run!"
A group of his men, ignoring the Impala and the pickups, started
running
all out.. tossing rifles and pistols and stuff away as they ran as
hard
as they could, up the hill. As they got nearly a couple hundred yards
out.. they started falling in heaps of flesh and rags.. a crack and
bang
sounding continuously.
Little Mickey was scared shitless, .. it was all now in his socks. His
breath was coming in gasps as his adrenaline loaded blood raced
through
his veins. He was zigzagging as Mabu had taught him to do.. but it was
hard running up the hill... suddenly from the corner of his eye he
spots
movement ..and stops dead in his tracks as a beautiful redheaded woman
in a bikini and webgear, rose up on one knee facing him.. "my God she
has big tits!" was his last thought as she let him hold a load of #4
buck shot in the middle of his chest, folding him up like a rag doll
as
she dropped back below the sage.
Pud looked up in time to see a puff of dust from under a bush and felt
a
sharp pain in his chest. Looking down.. he saw a hole in the center
of
his excellent BDU shirt and then saw another puff of dust rise from
his
shirt as another hole appeared beside the first one. Suddenly tired
..he realized he was lying down ..so tired.. but the sky was so blue
and
there were no cloud
Zitfaced Frank saw Pud go down and heard the shots that killed him.
Frank ran to the left firing the Marlin 22 semi automatic he had
managed to hang on to in the route.. shooting as fast as he could
until
it clicked on an empty chamber. Tossing it aside, he ran harder until
he
tripped on a rock , falling full length on his face ..the sharp stones
tearing at his cheek and his hands. He lay there for three rasping
breaths ..then lifted his head, to look squarely into the coldest set
of
eyes he had ever seen. Below the eyes was a salt and pepper beard, and
the eyes were looking at him down the sights of a big silver
automatic with a huge hole in the end. He heard a quiet "good bye
asshole" and then the dark took him.
Mabu the Magnificent was in a stark screaming panic as he opened the
drivers door of the old Impala. He crawled in and fired the engine,
the
cassette deck coming alive with the Backstreet Boys latest hit. He
slammed the gear shift into reverse and floored the gas. He looked
into
the rear view mirror as one of his wounded minions crawled into the
alley, raising his hand begging a ride. Mabu kept the pedal all the
way
down as the Impala screamed over the wounded kid with a heavy bump and
thump, then executed a poor bootleggers turn as he crushed garbage
cans
and bags of trash, then put it in drive and romped on it as he roared
out of town on the two lane road. Slamming on his brakes, his second
in
command Skeeter jumped in through the passenger window, then floored
it
again.
Behind him he could see a couple of his trucks heading out behind him
then the rear one, the truck with all the gas cans, explode in a huge
fireball and flip over repeatedly as the burning hulk spun off the
road,
a huge black cloud rising to the sky after the command detonated mine
was triggered.
"Goddamned redneck bastards! I KNEW they were gonna be trouble, I
should
never have recruited those stupid kids from the private boys school,
all those 12 and 13 year olds worshipped me, but they were no damned
good to me, letting redneck trash kill em. Good riddance to em all!"
He glanced over at Skeeter, who had just pulled his legs in the
window,
and was weeping, half on the seat, half on the floor. He screamed " I
will kill every one of those redneck bastards if its the last thing I
do!"
Skeeter looked up and said "it almost was the last thing you ever did
so
shut up and drive". Mabu couldn't think of a good response ..so he
shut
up and drove, a rag tag group of his Battle Trucks weaving in his
wake,
the beds filled with those strong enough to have made it into the
backs...not many, not many at all, just a handful, all told.
Mabu swore to himself, to never mess with rednecks again.
Epilog:
The quiet man reached down and got a good grip of greasy hair, and
swung
his Kurkri hard, then tossed the head into the wheelbarrow with the
huge
pile of others he had harvested. Standing up, and stretching his sore
back, he motioned for one of the town people to push the grisly cargo
out to the main road, and add them to a growing pile already there
below
the warning/welcome sign. As he walked away, a backhoe driven by a
young
woman listening to a Walkman recovered from one of the dead, pushed
the twisted bodies into a huge common grave, then started covering
them over with dirt.
Linking arms with his team, the quiet man and his ladies started
towards
home. Billy Bob looked up and saw them, then hollered and waved them
over to where he was directing the separation of the guns and gear
collected from the dead marauders and their vehicles. With a big smile
on his face, he handed the quiet man a heavy box, saying "we saved
these for you"
The quiet man looked into the box at the 10 cartons of smokes and the
4
cases of Mt. Dew. Drawing a deep sigh, he looked to the sky, smiled,
and in a quiet voice said "and here I was starting to think there
wasn't
a God anymore. Many thanks."
He stuck a couple cans of Dew in his now empty ammo pouches, and a
carton of smokes in his webgear and told Billy Bob to have a couple
kids
bring the rest up to the house later.
The trio started walking up the hill, arms around each other, rifles
and
handguns bouncing as they walked. Billy Bob busted into choked
laughter
and slid to the ground, as he heard one of the gals suddenly say "
Shit! Dinner is probably ruined" ..and heard the other reply " yup,
but
we know what's for desert" and all three broke into giggles as they
crested the first rise.
Billy Bob froze for a second as he looked up that rise...in the
setting sun...he sees a single form...6 arms waving as it moved
away..deadly weapons in all 6 hands.... he shivers a moment..shakes
his head as he almost remembers who it reminds him of... and goes back
to his business.
Mabu the Magnificent, and Skeeter stopped with his troops at an
abandoned Texaco station, and the treatment of the wounded was
started.
Most could be saved with the limited first aid equipment they had, and
the kotex and sanitary napkins they looted from the gas station. Mabu
was stuffing HoHos into his face as fast as he could get them out of
the
wrappers.. cursing in a low monotone. He needed troops and resupply
badly. He had the most able wounded fueling the Battle Trucks and his
Command Car from the stations underground tanks, using adapted
electric
fuel pumps his Tech Staff had put together for him, but it was a slow
process. Skeeter was silent and still, sitting on the rear deck of the
Impala.
Mabu had a sudden inspiration! He barked an order to Skeeter! Get me
that map you found in Time Magazine ..you know ..the one that shows
the
Democrat and Conservative counties all over the country, I have a
Plan!"
Skeeter dug through the trunk ..and brought out a tattered magazine,
bringing it to Mabu. Mabu squinted hard, unable to make out the fine
print without his glasses, and ordered Skeeter to find the closest
Democrat county. Skeeter gave Mabu a questioning look ,and Mabu puffed
out his chest and proclaimed " we have to avoid those countries marked
in red, but the blue ones....the blue ones are where all the Liberals
are, and we all know that they don't have guns!"
Skeeter slowly got a big grin on his face, then told the remaining
troops to saddle up.
Shiva
"The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed
(and hence clamorous to be led to safety)
by menacing it with an endless series of hobgoblins, all of them
imaginary." --H.L. Mencken