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Posted: Thu Feb 07, 2013 5:32 am
Re: I AM
Posted: Thu Feb 07, 2013 8:35 am
Re: I AM
Posted: Thu Feb 07, 2013 10:08 am
Ubique's platoon was numbered one to thirty. It was against all odds.
The lone privated Timmy Gobbles sat crying behind the tree, as the Vietnamese jungle hung over him like the greatest prison cell one could observe.
The Vietcongs were approaching fast. Timmy refused to budge, and Corporal Deadkon found himself pale and feverish.
Ubique was the only private left, holding his AK 47 against himself as the deadly and soft footsteps of the Vietcong became slightly audible.
Suddenly, Deadkon went breserk, and tried to take them all on. Ubique tried to hold him down, but he broke free and sent machine gun fire into the jungle.
Timmy stepped up to join him. Timmy refused to die, he wanted to see Alabama once again, he wanted to meet his friend Burnt who is waiting for him in South Carolina.
Timmy missed the old, fine countryside, he missed the poker, the campfire, the derbys, and most of all, he missed his closest friend Burnt.
And Timmy refused to let a bunch of scrawny, incompetent, ugly gooks to take away his life. Running into the jungle, behind Deadkon, Timmy and Deadkon charged through with war cries
that even startled the gooks themselves. But they were only two. And over sixty were coming. Ubique tried not to grimace as he heard screams and silence.
But he couldn't do it. Tears began to form around Ubique's eyes. This was all the president's fault. This was all the gooks fault. Ubique, the nineteen year old, a sport star at home,
was blackmailed, tortured, and ridiculed for no reason. There is no patriotism, there is no glory. This is Vietnam. And he was Ubique. And nobody, not even sixty gooks, a hundred gooks,
can take down Ubique. Ubique ripped out five grenades, and pulled each one of them. Eyes shot murderously with red, he tossed them sky-high, over sixty degrees into the sky, with the arm strength
that gave Ubique a perfect score in the Honolulu gym class. Soon, Ubique realized that his estimation was wrong.
There were more than sixty. There were hundreds. And they were everywhere. But Ubique did not care the slighest. He dashed through the long grass, and picked up Deadkon's M16 under his left arm; his own AK under his right arm.
Ubique ran to get back under cover, but stopped in his track. He looked up into the eyes of an entire Vietcong squad. Scrawny and brown, eyes full of filth, clothes full of filth.
The tallest one made a smirk at him. That was when Ubique snapped. Nobody smirks at Ubique. Especially not a stupid, yellow chink. Especially not that one. Nobody mocks Ubique. Nobody kills Ubique's friends and smirks at him.
Who the fuck do you think you are, Ubique screamed. Do you know who the fuck I am? And as the grenades fell from the sky, their smirks suddenly turned into surprised gasps, as
five explosions turned the scenery into a fiery hell. Do you know who the fuck I am, Ubique asked again. The tallest gook, schrapenl all in his thigh, tried to scramble away. And with both triggers held down, Ubique shot him sixteen times in the chest. Ubique roared to the sky. He screamed, I am no American, I am no Timmy, I am no Deadkon,
- Z`` (2013)
Re: I AM
Posted: Thu Feb 07, 2013 4:14 pm
hello ayb ching chao choi
z. please let me inside you
Re: I AM
Posted: Thu Feb 07, 2013 4:40 pm
ayb mad that my reflexes and precision outnumber his 10-1
jealous retard <3 you make me look good