ianc Posted December 22, 2000 Share Posted December 22, 2000 Sorry gents, it was just too good to let it die without a concise summary. Just read and don't add however, or surely dear Mattie (Mad type) will become very irritated with me... ...and then the FAQ said "No, I don't care what you think." I was dismayed to say the least. I then strapped my flamethrower back on and left for the pub, because a pint of Stout is definitely recommended if you have to carry a blimmin' flamethrower into battle. Unfortunately I was only half-way down the road when I came across a dead body. But there was no blood! Taking the nearly full bottle of Macallan from its outstretched hand, I uncorked it and wondered why there never seem to be any pretty girls when one is carrying a flamethrower. And that's one of the chief reasons I dislike it so. The other, of course, being the fact that crossing a busy street is really dangerous with such a lumbering object on your back. I therefore decided to leave that for the moment and see if Seanachai had sent me my turn yet. Perhaps I should get a life or perhaps just a bigger nozzle. I reckoned, oh well, what the hell, ya gotta go sometime. And so with a bloodcurdling scream I directed a searing burst of flame at a nearby nest of kitty cats, who ran squealing and burning into the quicksand, which ended their firey worries but soon finished them off anyways, much to the horror of the slack-jawed, gape-eyed gang of Mormon mothers standing on the sidelines. But then again, they themselves are yet another good reason for carrying a flamethrower. I gesticulate menacingly at them and they scurry off like a gaggle of incontintent rats, leaving me available for such worthy pursuits as tag team thumb wrestling or perhaps a rowsing game of "got your nose" with the inhabitants of the nearest geriatric home where you can find Seanachai and his pet, which I duly torched, seeing that it was full of tube-hugging redlegs who never in their lives have seen the enemy as close as I did. Thinking that this is all in a day's work for your friend the flamethrowerman, I gazed at the clouds as a squadron of PzMkIVs with superior-but-not-really-modeled optics roared into view and ground the squishy infantry into gooey jelly. I still wondered about Seanachai's pet, now perished in the flames, and tucked the now half-empty bottle of Macallan in my pocket as Seanachai writes bad Celtic poetry in memory of his pet naked mole rat, while awaiting the return of his grandson who came to help him change his diapers and clean his dentures (not in that order). "Back in my day..." his story would begin, as he would sit in his favorite comfy chair and gently tug upon his very old and almost rotten waist-coat, 'Back when I still had teeth and could put a thought or two together, mind you, every so often you may mistake my inane ramblings for genius, then we did not even know flamethrowers and we had to make do with silly puddy. You should see that stuff burn! We used to light up a ball of silly puddy and throw it at Panzer mark IVs. That was ussually enough to set those cardboard tanks on fire." Then he would nod off into a restless sleep as far away, above the arctic circle Dr. Pengenstein's monster drifted lazily through the freezing water, encased in a block of ice, thinking cold thoughts and biding his time until suddenly, a ship came by toting a disoriented and totally befuddled Elijah Meeks! Meeks berated Pengenstein's monster for 12 minutes, at which time the monster jumped aboard Meeks' boat and beat him senseless, a state recognizable by insufficient respect for the superb PzMkIV armored killing machine. Finding the putrid Meeksian corpse indigestible, the monster ditched his machine-gun, and ran for the hills! There were men chasing him now, and he wasn't about to be caught holding the gun! He ran past men on bicycles, past horses pulling artillery, past the nearby McDonalds where he ran into the one who is named after the feline creatures he abused. He eyed her contemptuously and stated ..."is that really you in that picture? There is no way that a woman with any attractive qualities could possibly have interest or knowledge in WWII. Moreover, I've never spoken to woman before, and this would break my streak." To which she replied .."duck!" as an angry mob led by the lost Frenchman threw a duck through the front window and proceeded to ransack the restaurant. "This way" she said, and they ran out the back door, right into me, bearing the bottle of Macallan, desperately trying to hold off the Mormon wives with the flame-thrower, but to no avail. All seemed lost, when suddenly a very bad orchestra began playing an Arthur Fiedler adaptation of Debussy's 'Afternoon of a faun', the sunset took on a romantic purplish hue, and Sean-itchy and Kitty gazed at each other as if seeing each other for the first time. Their limpid gaze was indicative of a slight mental hiccup, as if their brains had decided to give it a miss and go for a lovely cup of tea. "Giiirlll...?" drooled Seanachai blearily as he reached for his flamethrower, because in the corner of his eye he could see his latino life-partner, Enrique. "Que?" his live in lover responded. Seanachai knew that something was amiss when... FAQ-MAN hero to all non-thinkers everywhere, asked "Do u think i could light my cigarette with that flamethrower?" "Ha Ha,I was just kidding, I really already knew the answer. Actually I wanted to show you my etchings. This one is a Schwervolksgemüsespüler Ausf. G/44a1+ with the optional Insta-hot. I remember the time that I was" ...gurgle... His death mewlings bordered on the pathetic as I strangled him carelessly for his unforgiveable transgression against my stream-of-consciousness. I focused again on Spleen-itchy and Kitty, and wondered what could possibly unite such variegated talents in the common pursuit of one objective? And where precisely does the flamethrower tie in with this? Stain-icky's hand trembled as he reached again for his flamethrower as two of the singed kitty cats -- now really pissed because their little noses were full of sand -- had escaped. He pulled the trigger, loosing a jet of jellied gas. He missed but it didn't matter because the next instant Hiram came careening around the corner in his 2-cylinder Daf, obviously out of control. Sliding sideways on two wheels he hit the curb, spun around like Stuka's boys in the attack, and landed smack on top of the poor semi-boiled kittenses. Hiram, dazed so no different, kicked open the drivers door and was immediately squashed into a gooey pulp by the kitchen sink that mysteriously fell out of the empty sky. Seanachoo looked up and said "Oh dear, it's starting" when the White Knight started talking backwards. Meanwhile, the disgusting monster (who had wisely passed on Meeks' remains) siezed a nearby MP40 and several spare magazines and... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mace Posted December 22, 2000 Share Posted December 22, 2000 Hey IanC! What are you smoking, and can I get some? Mace (proud sponsor of Aussie Gerbil) Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mark IV Posted December 22, 2000 Share Posted December 22, 2000 This was sheer Dostoevsky... the next chapter was going to bring it all together and tie up the loose ends. To Be Continued... err, in the 'Pool or somewhere, of course... [This message has been edited by Mark IV (edited 12-22-2000).] Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ronson Posted December 22, 2000 Share Posted December 22, 2000 American Literature at it's finest!! Soon to be released as a minor Motion Picture! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Sgt. Steiner Posted December 22, 2000 Share Posted December 22, 2000 Achtung! CessPool leakage.. ------------------ Ob's stürmt oder schneit, ob die Sonne uns lacht, der Tag glühend heiß oder eiskalt die Nacht, bestaubt sind die Gesichter, doch froh ist unser sinn, ja unser sinn, es braust unser Panzer im Sturmwind dahin -- Panzerlied Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Seanachai Posted December 22, 2000 Share Posted December 22, 2000 Why is my name being bandied about in this disturbing way? Actually, I mean why is my name being bandied about in this disturbing way here, rather than where it is normally bandied about? I think I missed the FAQ thread, have to go check it out. ------------------ Tremble, tyrants and you perfidious opprobrium of all the parties, Tremblez! your parricidal projects finally will receive their prices! But these sanguinary despots, But these accomplices of Berli, All these tigers which, without pity, Bauhaus the centre of their mother! We will enter the career When our elder is not there any more, We will find there their dust And the trace of their virtues Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
David Aitken Posted December 23, 2000 Share Posted December 23, 2000 At risk of upsetting the Padlock Fairy, I must say it seemed that the posts to the FAQ thread occurred with an average of a few hours between them, and were simply a more imaginative way of saying "bump". I thought this was quite clever, as it both kept the FAQ at the top and encouraged people to keep it there by continuing the story. Maybe we could start the next Peng Thread with the FAQ at the top, ie. CM FAQ: For A Few Peng Challenges More ? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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