Dutch's Destiny
Posted: Tue Aug 18, 2009 11:02 am
Hello, my name is...I'm sorry. I can't remember the last time I saw a friendly face. At least one that was still attached to someones body. A living body.
I've been on the run for so long. Running from what? From whom? I can no longer remember.
Dutch! That was what I reckon they called me. Who are they? Don't remember.All I can remember is pain. Pain from torture. Fusion batteries. Burning hair. Sore nipbles. 3-Dog radio shows. Bruised jaw. Really sore nipbles. That's it! It's coming back to me.
I was a slave once.
But never again.
I lived in a small community, in an area known to only myself as the petrified forest. It's not really stone, but everything is gray and dead. Or mostly dead. There is an odd plant here and there and these godawful beetles the size of a mutfruit if they're an inch. Oh, and scorpions, can't forget the scorpions. It didn't last long, though. You see, I have this uncanny ability to find the worst, most explosive, gut wrenching way for someone to die. A gift really...or at least what I used to perceive to be one. I can make one hell of a bloody mess when I want to. That was what got me in the pickle I'm in today.
I was never accused of being a pretty boy, handsome, not bad looking, or even average. Hell, I'd even settle for ghoulish, especially after that one night in an abandoned metro station. She was a looker alright, before the Great War...even got myself a souvenir. Damn thing popped right off, I tell ya! Anyway, one day I approached my neighbor's daughter, with purely gentleman-like intentions. Well my neighbor, Frank was his name. My neighbor Frank didn't take too kindly with me courtin' his daughter, and started hollerin' and possibly hootin', but was most definitely pissed I tell ya. Well me, with my temper, well...I kinda don't know what happened, it being all blank and all, but the next thing I knew his daughter was screamin' and yellin' and was most definitely alarmed. Poor Frank, or what was left of him, turned into a quivering mass. I had to wipe some of him off on my pants
Well it wasn't long til the people in the neighborhood chained me up and I was off in a sack the very next time the merchants passed through.
After a long, sweaty, bumpy ride, I was dumped on the ground. Then someone kicked me in the hind quarters, and told me to get up. As I mentioned, It was a long ride, with no bathroom breaks. You can imagine what horror show erupted from my poorly sewn brahmin skin pants, onto the kicker's shoe, a wide area on the ground, and several feet in the air. I felt a rifle butt crack the back of my skull, and felt no more....
TO BE CONTINUED...EVENTUALLY
I've been on the run for so long. Running from what? From whom? I can no longer remember.
Dutch! That was what I reckon they called me. Who are they? Don't remember.All I can remember is pain. Pain from torture. Fusion batteries. Burning hair. Sore nipbles. 3-Dog radio shows. Bruised jaw. Really sore nipbles. That's it! It's coming back to me.
I was a slave once.
But never again.
I lived in a small community, in an area known to only myself as the petrified forest. It's not really stone, but everything is gray and dead. Or mostly dead. There is an odd plant here and there and these godawful beetles the size of a mutfruit if they're an inch. Oh, and scorpions, can't forget the scorpions. It didn't last long, though. You see, I have this uncanny ability to find the worst, most explosive, gut wrenching way for someone to die. A gift really...or at least what I used to perceive to be one. I can make one hell of a bloody mess when I want to. That was what got me in the pickle I'm in today.
I was never accused of being a pretty boy, handsome, not bad looking, or even average. Hell, I'd even settle for ghoulish, especially after that one night in an abandoned metro station. She was a looker alright, before the Great War...even got myself a souvenir. Damn thing popped right off, I tell ya! Anyway, one day I approached my neighbor's daughter, with purely gentleman-like intentions. Well my neighbor, Frank was his name. My neighbor Frank didn't take too kindly with me courtin' his daughter, and started hollerin' and possibly hootin', but was most definitely pissed I tell ya. Well me, with my temper, well...I kinda don't know what happened, it being all blank and all, but the next thing I knew his daughter was screamin' and yellin' and was most definitely alarmed. Poor Frank, or what was left of him, turned into a quivering mass. I had to wipe some of him off on my pants
Well it wasn't long til the people in the neighborhood chained me up and I was off in a sack the very next time the merchants passed through.
After a long, sweaty, bumpy ride, I was dumped on the ground. Then someone kicked me in the hind quarters, and told me to get up. As I mentioned, It was a long ride, with no bathroom breaks. You can imagine what horror show erupted from my poorly sewn brahmin skin pants, onto the kicker's shoe, a wide area on the ground, and several feet in the air. I felt a rifle butt crack the back of my skull, and felt no more....
TO BE CONTINUED...EVENTUALLY