Tuesday, January 15, 2008


by Robert Gryfft

It loomed behind us, weaving through the smoke and screams. I grabbed Sarge's sleeve; sighting it, his eyes widened. "It's a liecopter! GET TO COVER!"

"FUUUUUCK!!" screamed my profanitycannon.

Familiar voices issued from above: nostalgiarays. "Go, honey. I'll be right here."

Those bastards.

My vision blurred at the reminder, yet somehow I aimed true.


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