Wednesday, July 14, 2004

Creativity abounds

Glossary of terms

This afternoon a spy told me there was some shit going down in the streets. Filled with tombstone courage I decided to head downtown and check it out. That’s when I ran into a cluster fuck of rimrods. A soup sandwich apparently pissed off a pork sandwich carrying some heavy heat and a chip on his shoulder. From where I stood I could see the cop was a little badge heavy and I decided it might be safer to watch from a distance. Apparently there’d been a set up to eye the young cop as he did a buy and walk from this worthless sack of shit pumping on the corner. He must have been told not to drop the perp because he was making every effort to control the situation.

Something went awry when a group of soldiers unknowingly walked through the hot spot. Confusion erupted and the order was given to drop them all, particularly the cherry because nobody likes a fucking cherry anyway. But in the chaos a five jump chump got cocky and went too far. Bacon streamed in from all directions as glocks were drawn. A cap here, a cap there, here a cap, there a cap, everywhere a cap cap. Old MacDonald had a fruit salad that impressed even the deployment queen, which was clearly a man but I don’t think anyone was paying particular attention to that small detail as the hulling was going on.

I ran across the street to aid in controlling the situation by applying a facial stun maneuver to several studs standing nearby. They were bystanders but fuck it, I was riled up by all the action and after my long hump I didn’t want to take on the entire cluster fuck of cherries, soup sandwiches and pepperoni.

Suddenly, one of the legs shouted out, “Who the fuck’s got the paper?” We all stopped fighting for a moment and looked around, shrugging into each other’s blank stares. Then someone else said, “Where the fuck did the guy with the nose problem go?”

Ah, shit! Amidst the chaos the pumper had apparently fled the scene in a slick that landed a block away and nobody noticed. As it began to take off every one of the ham sandwiches put in some trigger time during downtown’s first run and gun. I stepped over the DRT stud that I’d been hand jobbing…er, uh…hand maneuvering and decided this whole day was ate up and not worth salvaging. I jumped in my BUFF, cleared myself for takeoff because I have that power, and flew home.