OK, they're pouring over the ridge next to the housing development you moved into to get out of the stressful City.
They're from another planet, or whacked out of their minds here at home, maybe they've been spoon-fed some political mantra and hate your guts on sight, or else they've been cloned and are running beserk: but they're here. There are tens of thousands of them- and that's just in your neighborhood. All across the Nation they are coming, they are here, they are armed and they take no prisoners. Oh, and they scream: AI YI YI YI YI !!
I would like to sign up officially for the:
LAST STAND, KHUK IN HAND CLUB
Anyone with a Kabar or Busse or Benchmade cannot be a member. If you prefer another type of blade that's great but you can't be in the Club.
Firearms are optional, but a STRONG recomendation, and you'll never be nominated for top rank postions in the Club if you intend to have no firearms with you at the critical time. That includes the Honorific for the guy who taps the Keg, and the guy who picks the CD selection on the stereo. It also includes the guy who stands in a field of succulent cacti next to a off-white industrial building whose product is not apparent. This is the guy who wore the Cleveland Indians Cap before they came back, and in his hand is the rod which turns the rainbird sprinklers on. I don't have to remind you this guy gets big bucks and knows all. Anyway, where was I?
Yes, who among you would prefer to go down with khukuri in hand? My other hand is clutching the .41 mag, and on my lap is the M1A.
I'm not sure, the image is getting hazy, but I think I have the Tyndale translation of the New Testament by my feet. Also, my wonderful sons were secreted away to safety a long time before the herd came over the ridge. I realize many more volunteered for Bunker duty than slots were available. I don't want to hear any more argument about that, either; I know your Grandmother is hard of hearing and the only one who knows the recipe to the Cherry Pie we agreed was the best at the picnic. Obviously, there will not be a cherry pie quite like it at the Bunker luncheons.
And yes, I know so and so's wife looks like a PlayBoy Model but that is not going to help us any now.
Who is with me, men?
munk, with either a Kesar 19" Chitlangi or a WWll 18" I don't own at present.
They're from another planet, or whacked out of their minds here at home, maybe they've been spoon-fed some political mantra and hate your guts on sight, or else they've been cloned and are running beserk: but they're here. There are tens of thousands of them- and that's just in your neighborhood. All across the Nation they are coming, they are here, they are armed and they take no prisoners. Oh, and they scream: AI YI YI YI YI !!
I would like to sign up officially for the:
LAST STAND, KHUK IN HAND CLUB
Anyone with a Kabar or Busse or Benchmade cannot be a member. If you prefer another type of blade that's great but you can't be in the Club.
Firearms are optional, but a STRONG recomendation, and you'll never be nominated for top rank postions in the Club if you intend to have no firearms with you at the critical time. That includes the Honorific for the guy who taps the Keg, and the guy who picks the CD selection on the stereo. It also includes the guy who stands in a field of succulent cacti next to a off-white industrial building whose product is not apparent. This is the guy who wore the Cleveland Indians Cap before they came back, and in his hand is the rod which turns the rainbird sprinklers on. I don't have to remind you this guy gets big bucks and knows all. Anyway, where was I?
Yes, who among you would prefer to go down with khukuri in hand? My other hand is clutching the .41 mag, and on my lap is the M1A.
I'm not sure, the image is getting hazy, but I think I have the Tyndale translation of the New Testament by my feet. Also, my wonderful sons were secreted away to safety a long time before the herd came over the ridge. I realize many more volunteered for Bunker duty than slots were available. I don't want to hear any more argument about that, either; I know your Grandmother is hard of hearing and the only one who knows the recipe to the Cherry Pie we agreed was the best at the picnic. Obviously, there will not be a cherry pie quite like it at the Bunker luncheons.
And yes, I know so and so's wife looks like a PlayBoy Model but that is not going to help us any now.
Who is with me, men?
munk, with either a Kesar 19" Chitlangi or a WWll 18" I don't own at present.