Tuesday, November 16, 2004

Chapter 8 part 2

Word Count: 966
Total: 15,542

His opponent charged with the staff over his head. Skip stood waiting, and when the native got close he thrust his own staff forward and directly into the leather breastplate. The native slammed into the staff, and fell to the ground stunned. Skip walked way calmly, and turned to wait for another attack.

The native got back to his feet in a fury, and charged Skip a second time. This time Skip put his staff forward, but the native was ready, and deflected it to the side. So Skip brought the other end of his staff up into the native's crotch. Skip then fell back and used the native's momentum to fling him over his head.

The native landed on his back winded, and Skip was to his feet in an instant. When the native sat up Skip swung his staff like a golf club, catching him directly under the chin. The native slumped over, unconscious. Skip waited for him to get back up, but he remained motionless.

There was a deathly silence through out the camp. The villagers were stunned. They all stood crowded around the pit staring at Skip in disbelief. He looked back at all of them, not knowing what to do.

"I think you might have pissed them off." Imp said.

The Chief stood up and yelled something. Two more young boys climbed into the pit to remove the prostrate body of the fallen warrior. The Chief yelled some more, and the crowd parted again. In to the pit jumped 3 more fighters, each dressed similar to the one Skip had just defeated.

The first ran forward at Skip yelling some sort of battle cry. Skip threw his staff like a spear, striking the native square in the forehead, and knocking him to the ground. Skip then picked up the staff with the head on the end, and waited for another attack.

The other two natives didn't wait for the first to get back to his feet. They separated and charged at Skip from opposite sides. Skip ducked their haphazard swings, and rolled backward in a reverse summersault. He came back to his feet and spun like a dervish striking both men multiple times about their heads and chests.

Skip spun away, and the men staggered. The third man got back up and tried to strike Skip from behind, but he spun around and cracked him right across the face for the second time. The other two tried to rush from the other side, but Skip spun around and caught each in the face as well.

Skip was now enjoying the fight. His rage mixed with his unearned skill, and created a deadly mixture. He felt like a different person. He felt like a warrior. He was God's barbed wire baseball bat of vengeance upon the world.

All three native warriors got to their feet and circled Skip with caution. One rushed him from behind, but Skip spun around and thrust his staff straight through his throat. He then jerked the staff back, and jammed his fingers into the native's eyeballs. Skip grabbed the native's head like it was a bowling ball, with a finger in each eye socket, and a thumb in the mouth. He then ripped the head off and rolled it along the ground between the other two natives.

The two natives stared at Skip in horror. They then turned and ran out of the pit. Skip couldn't understand the language, but the sound of an angry mob is pretty much universal, and the crowd was obviously livid. Imp jumped down into the pit and walked over to Skip.

"I like your style, but I think we should leave now." Imp said.

"Would you like me to call a cab?" Skip said sarcastically.

"I don't think that will be necessary. The Calvary is arriving." Imp said.

"What are you talking about now?" Skip asked.

Imp didn't answer. The ground began to rumble, and the sound of engines could be heard approaching from the West. From the East there was another sound. Skip couldn't figure out what it was, but it was drawing the attention of the angry mob away from him.

The chief was ushered away, and the crowd dispersed to see what was happening. Skip crawled out of the pit and looked around. He looked to the West and saw a fleet of bulldozers and construction equipment approaching the village. He looked to the East, and could not believe what he saw.

It was a mob of angry protesters. There were dreadlocks, and hats made of hemp, tie-dye T-shirts, and smiley faces, and of course homemade cardboard signs.

The bulldozers were doing what they were made to do, turning the landscape into a parking lot. The protesters were doing what they were made to do, trying to stop the bulldozers. They formed a line on the edge of the village, holding hands and singing "we shall overcome!"

The bulldozers pulled up and formed a line parallel to the line of protesters. For a few moments there was a stand off between the two natural enemies. Unfortunately for these protesters, this construction company wasn't fucking around.

A man with a megaphone stepped out from behind the line of bulldozers and said, "Please disperse, or we will disperse you."

The protesters didn't budge. They kept singing their hippy songs and holding hands.

"You have been warned." The man said firmly, and stepped back behind the bulldozers.

A moment later a large group of men armed with assault rifles emerged from behind the bulldozers and opened fire. The protesters screamed and scattered in a panic. The men continued firing, and chased the protesters off through the jungle. With the protesters out of the way, the civilization of the Whodamuka tribe began.


Blogger Ben Danmytt said...

Why can't that happen to all protestor's?

12:55 PM  
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1:49 PM  

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