Lexion
04-11-2008, 10:03 PM
New FOP. Great.
I fucking hate the jungle.
Every tree looks the same.
Jones is shooting an azimuth.
Glad he is. I'm fucking lost.
Two clicks, he says. Due North.
Yeah, which way is North...
Just me and Jones. I'm here
because I'm under orders.
Jones is here, because I asked
for him. I ain't stupid.
He stops, checks his map and
says "About 100 metres ahead."
"Ok. I'll call it in".
"Pop...sssssssss" SHIT !!!
(Bullets going near a person have
a unique sound. The "pop" is the
projectile breaking the sound barrier.
The "ssssssss" is the sound of the
bullet, long after it has passed you.)
Jones rolls right, I roll left.
More "pop...sssssss". Lots more.
Tree bark and leaves are flying.
Jones hisses "Goddamnit, fuckers
are already here. What now?"
I roll to him and hand him the mic.
He keys it three times.
"Bow-chicka-bow-wow". Fuck yeah.
He whispers the coords.
This cocky voice drools over...
"Linda Lovelace, going down"
I look at Jones, and we both grin.
Bullets still coming, but we're
giggling like school girls.
We feel a single blackie coming in.
100 metres. Gonna be close.
We hug each other close.
In another life, we might be mistaken
for lovers.
We utter words that are only for friends
about to die.
Then our world shakes. Bad.
We continue to hold each other. My ears
are ringing.
After a few seconds, debris starts falling.
Dirt, pieces of trees, human limbs...
Jones starts sobbing. My tears dried long
ago.
I hold him. As was done for me.
Then, silence. Another thing I hate.
When he stops sobbing, I ask.
"Attitude check?"
"Fuck it".
Positive attitude check?
Positively fuck it.
I smiled.
Regards,
Lex
I fucking hate the jungle.
Every tree looks the same.
Jones is shooting an azimuth.
Glad he is. I'm fucking lost.
Two clicks, he says. Due North.
Yeah, which way is North...
Just me and Jones. I'm here
because I'm under orders.
Jones is here, because I asked
for him. I ain't stupid.
He stops, checks his map and
says "About 100 metres ahead."
"Ok. I'll call it in".
"Pop...sssssssss" SHIT !!!
(Bullets going near a person have
a unique sound. The "pop" is the
projectile breaking the sound barrier.
The "ssssssss" is the sound of the
bullet, long after it has passed you.)
Jones rolls right, I roll left.
More "pop...sssssss". Lots more.
Tree bark and leaves are flying.
Jones hisses "Goddamnit, fuckers
are already here. What now?"
I roll to him and hand him the mic.
He keys it three times.
"Bow-chicka-bow-wow". Fuck yeah.
He whispers the coords.
This cocky voice drools over...
"Linda Lovelace, going down"
I look at Jones, and we both grin.
Bullets still coming, but we're
giggling like school girls.
We feel a single blackie coming in.
100 metres. Gonna be close.
We hug each other close.
In another life, we might be mistaken
for lovers.
We utter words that are only for friends
about to die.
Then our world shakes. Bad.
We continue to hold each other. My ears
are ringing.
After a few seconds, debris starts falling.
Dirt, pieces of trees, human limbs...
Jones starts sobbing. My tears dried long
ago.
I hold him. As was done for me.
Then, silence. Another thing I hate.
When he stops sobbing, I ask.
"Attitude check?"
"Fuck it".
Positive attitude check?
Positively fuck it.
I smiled.
Regards,
Lex