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Brett Bastadge gasped. The night was taking its toll. A trans-English Channel voyage? Okay. A SCUBA journey to the sands of Point du Hoc? I can do it. Lugging 80 pounds of gear to the base of the cliffs as a member of the Ranger forces? Whew. Okay. I trained for this. Right.

But now this. THIS. The daunting cliff was mocking Brett as he made his vertical ascent to the top of the cliff. On the horizon, the scene of candy-like orange glow and brilliance masked what was surely the deadly blast of German artillary.

"God Dammit," exclaimed Bastadge.

Brett thought of his younger brother, William, who had dissapeared just one week before this mission.

"No. I won't quit now. I CAN'T quit now."

Calling upon all the strength he had left in his 6'0, 200 lbs. muscular frame, Brett lifted his right arm and planted his Kentlington Scaling Rod into the cliff, just ten yards below the top.

"What happens when I get there happens," he thought. "...but I WILL get there."

He looked up at his target.....his destination. For a brief moment, hope and purpose had found a haven in his being. Then, a stark interruption.

"Herr Bastadge! Up a little late are you?"

Brett looked upwards and to his horror saw a face from his past. The face of ugliness. The face of betrayal. The face of evil itself.

For this face. Oh god. This was the face of....

a tar heel. Not just any tar heel - but Ol' Roy, the tar heel in chief.

Oh, the horror!

Ol' Roy then asked, "Can I buy a Coke from you? I have a dime."

Lavabe wrote:Ol' Roy then asked, "Can I buy a Coke from you? I have a dime."

"Alles Richtig Roy. Well I'll be damned. You WOULD like a Coke wouldn't you 'ol boy Roy? You always have been an all-American wannabe."

"Well, you are right about one thing," said Roy, a knowing, devious smile on his face. "You ARE quite damned."

"Maybe. Maybe not," Brett retorted. "Seems you said the same thing a couple of Aprils ago. I'm still here Roy. And to be honest, you don't look so good."

"ENOUGH! ENOUGH," shouted Roy. My troops got lazy last year after their victory in Detroitsbourg. Consider your victories of last year, how do you say it......an anomaly."

Roy was grinning but his shaking body and tight face betrayed his true emotion. He was scared. Bret knew it, and Roy KNEW Bret knew it.

"Help me up," requested Bret. It was a gamble. Bret knew that Roy desired for Bret NOT to die. Not tonight. Not before he had his revenge. Revenge that would come in eliminating every soldier in Bret's company.

Roy extended his hand, and lifted Bret to safety.

"Thanks," Roy bullshitted. "I may just get a drink for you afterall."

Roy's tension eased a bit. "No Bret. You'll never live long enough to make good on that promise."

Roy smiled. "Well 'ol Roy, first of all, I never said it was a promise. Secondly, I never said the drink was for you to enjoy. No. You'll be quite dead. The drink is for your memory and your end; it shall be quite a treat for me."

"You son of a.........."

Bret, expecting a knee-jerk reaction, reached in his pocket and pulled out NOT a gun, but something he knew would be much more lethal to Herr Roy. It was....

Storytime

Hello, children. Hello. Here is this morning's story...Are you ready? Then we'll begin.
One day, Ricky the magic pixie, went to visit Daisy Bungle, in her tumble down cottage. He found her in the bedroom. Roughly, he grabbed her heavy shoulders, pulling her down onto the bed and pulling her...



Old Nick, the sea captain, was a rough, tough, jolly sort of fellow. He loved the life of the sea and he loved hang out down by the pier where the men dressed as ladies......


Rumple Tweezer, ran the Dinky Tinky shop, in the foot of the magic oak tree, by the wobbly Dum-Dum bush, in the shade of the glade, down in Dingley Dell. There he sold contraceptives......


Discipline????

Naked???



With a melon????

captmojo wrote:Storytime

Hello, children. Hello. Here is this morning's story...Are you ready? Then we'll begin.
One day, Ricky the magic pixie, went to visit Daisy Bungle, in her tumble down cottage. He found her in the bedroom. Roughly, he grabbed her heavy shoulders, pulling her down onto the bed and pulling her...



Old Nick, the sea captain, was a rough, tough, jolly sort of fellow. He loved the life of the sea and he loved hang out down by the pier where the men dressed as ladies......


Rumple Tweezer, ran the Dinky Tinky shop, in the foot of the magic oak tree, by the wobbly Dum-Dum bush, in the shade of the glade, down in Dingley Dell. There he sold contraceptives......


Discipline????

Naked???



With a melon????

Why can't we have more art critics?

EarlJam wrote:

Lavabe wrote:Ol' Roy then asked, "Can I buy a Coke from you? I have a dime."

"Alles Richtig Roy. Well I'll be damned. You WOULD like a Coke wouldn't you 'ol boy Roy? You always have been an all-American wannabe."

"Well, you are right about one thing," said Roy, a knowing, devious smile on his face. "You ARE quite damned."

"Maybe. Maybe not," Brett retorted. "Seems you said the same thing a couple of Aprils ago. I'm still here Roy. And to be honest, you don't look so good."

"ENOUGH! ENOUGH," shouted Roy. My troops got lazy last year after their victory in Detroitsbourg. Consider your victories of last year, how do you say it......an anomaly."

Roy was grinning but his shaking body and tight face betrayed his true emotion. He was scared. Bret knew it, and Roy KNEW Bret knew it.

"Help me up," requested Bret. It was a gamble. Bret knew that Roy desired for Bret NOT to die. Not tonight. Not before he had his revenge. Revenge that would come in eliminating every soldier in Bret's company.

Roy extended his hand, and lifted Bret to safety.

"Thanks," Roy bullshitted. "I may just get a drink for you afterall."

Roy's tension eased a bit. "No Bret. You'll never live long enough to make good on that promise."

Roy smiled. "Well 'ol Roy, first of all, I never said it was a promise. Secondly, I never said the drink was for you to enjoy. No. You'll be quite dead. The drink is for your memory and your end; it shall be quite a treat for me."

"You son of a.........."

Bret, expecting a knee-jerk reaction, reached in his pocket and pulled out NOT a gun, but something he knew would be much more lethal to Herr Roy. It was....

an invitation to the 2011 NIT.