That dammed bridge - ANOTHER P&S spinoff
- Thread starter Top hats daily
- Start date
The Lieutenant nervously shifted around. Was it radiation poisoning? Or was it just a case of the flu? He walked around the house, scouting it out. He walked up stairs. It was a cozy little place. A bridge like structure connected the master bedroom and bathroom with two rumpus rooms. He looked down over the side, 12 feet below, the Private was getting medical care, while a National Guardsmen examined the massive damage.
"Phan' gawd 's onleey cosemetic 'eh doc?"
said the Private through his horribly damaged mouth. A police officer opened a door that lead to the basement. The others thought nothing of it. That is. Up until they heard a noise.
"HOLY SHIT BOYS! COME TAKE A LOOK AT THIS!"
The men scurried down stairs, while the Private attempted to take some Painkillers he found in a cabinet.
"Jesus Christ officer, what is the noise about?"
"Look at this set up...I mean LOOK AT IT!"
The Lieutenant saw it in plain sight. An operation was going on down here. A hydroponics lab full of marijuana.
"Man... I wonder if..."
The lieutenant thought to himself.
"I wonder if... maybe we could harvest this? It could work as a tranquilizer."
The police officer pondered the thought, and after murmuring to a Corporal, he said that it would be best to harvest a little bit.
"OK! Just a few plants. We don't want to get our asses shoved in by some old fartbag that says we're using illict drugs."
The Lieutenant thought again.
"Nevermind. Burn it."
"What? Why?"
Remarked the Police Officer
"We're not going to get fucked in the ass and then killed because we have drugs on us. We can make do."
The Officer thought, and then nodded his head, he began pouring weed killer into each of the potted plants. The rumble of fighter jets continued to break an otherwise tense silence. The Private got up from his supine position on the floor to respond to the sound of knocking. He pulled his M9 up and quietly edged towards the door.
" 'Ello?"
The knocking continued. He began to slowly but surely open the door, six men in blue uniforms stood in a rigid structure. One with a almost comical Yosemite -Sam mustache said in a thick accent
"We were walking around town. When the.. bombs hit. We... we. We don't English well."
The Private eyed the man when another one stepped up.
"We are sailors on the ship Odin. We are from the country of Norway. We speak little English."
The Private began to open his damaged mouth.
"-o you speak...Norskee?"
The sailors looked at each other
"Ja, norsk."
The Private called the men up to the doorway. The Lieutenant ellegantly strolled up infront of the Private.
"Vi har ikke forsyninger. Lede oss til skipet ditt."
The Lieutenant spoke poor Norwegian, but the point still stood. The Lieutenant rubbed his temples and spit out some vomit and said.
"Let's go find this ship."
"Phan' gawd 's onleey cosemetic 'eh doc?"
said the Private through his horribly damaged mouth. A police officer opened a door that lead to the basement. The others thought nothing of it. That is. Up until they heard a noise.
"HOLY SHIT BOYS! COME TAKE A LOOK AT THIS!"
The men scurried down stairs, while the Private attempted to take some Painkillers he found in a cabinet.
"Jesus Christ officer, what is the noise about?"
"Look at this set up...I mean LOOK AT IT!"
The Lieutenant saw it in plain sight. An operation was going on down here. A hydroponics lab full of marijuana.
"Man... I wonder if..."
The lieutenant thought to himself.
"I wonder if... maybe we could harvest this? It could work as a tranquilizer."
The police officer pondered the thought, and after murmuring to a Corporal, he said that it would be best to harvest a little bit.
"OK! Just a few plants. We don't want to get our asses shoved in by some old fartbag that says we're using illict drugs."
The Lieutenant thought again.
"Nevermind. Burn it."
"What? Why?"
Remarked the Police Officer
"We're not going to get fucked in the ass and then killed because we have drugs on us. We can make do."
The Officer thought, and then nodded his head, he began pouring weed killer into each of the potted plants. The rumble of fighter jets continued to break an otherwise tense silence. The Private got up from his supine position on the floor to respond to the sound of knocking. He pulled his M9 up and quietly edged towards the door.
" 'Ello?"
The knocking continued. He began to slowly but surely open the door, six men in blue uniforms stood in a rigid structure. One with a almost comical Yosemite -Sam mustache said in a thick accent
"We were walking around town. When the.. bombs hit. We... we. We don't English well."
The Private eyed the man when another one stepped up.
"We are sailors on the ship Odin. We are from the country of Norway. We speak little English."
The Private began to open his damaged mouth.
"-o you speak...Norskee?"
The sailors looked at each other
"Ja, norsk."
The Private called the men up to the doorway. The Lieutenant ellegantly strolled up infront of the Private.
"Vi har ikke forsyninger. Lede oss til skipet ditt."
The Lieutenant spoke poor Norwegian, but the point still stood. The Lieutenant rubbed his temples and spit out some vomit and said.
"Let's go find this ship."
The weak and wise men stumbled through Duluth. The Lieutenant gazed at
the collapsing DECC building, the thoughts of watching UMD play ran through his
mind. The Norwegian men looked confused, pointing and stumbling in random
directions. The Private was thinking back to his early high school years. How he
would love to see his girlfriend once more. He began to whistle a tune.
"I wanna be your lover" rang throughout Duluth. A bastardized choir began to
sing. The Norwegian men continued to gaze at the Americans with errie
confusion. The radio began to pick up. "We have made....contact. With
Air Force...units...reporting an engagement of...aircraft. Bail out over Duluth.
Find them." The troops began to think aloud. "Where are the Russkies?!" "Let
me lay my hands on them!" Just as this crackle spoke, they saw a tanker
sitting in a harbor, looked like it was completely unskinned, with paint flailed
off of it like a horrible mitharic ritual. "THATS IT" shouted the Americans.
Sorry for the concise update.
the collapsing DECC building, the thoughts of watching UMD play ran through his
mind. The Norwegian men looked confused, pointing and stumbling in random
directions. The Private was thinking back to his early high school years. How he
would love to see his girlfriend once more. He began to whistle a tune.
"I wanna be your lover" rang throughout Duluth. A bastardized choir began to
sing. The Norwegian men continued to gaze at the Americans with errie
confusion. The radio began to pick up. "We have made....contact. With
Air Force...units...reporting an engagement of...aircraft. Bail out over Duluth.
Find them." The troops began to think aloud. "Where are the Russkies?!" "Let
me lay my hands on them!" Just as this crackle spoke, they saw a tanker
sitting in a harbor, looked like it was completely unskinned, with paint flailed
off of it like a horrible mitharic ritual. "THATS IT" shouted the Americans.
Sorry for the concise update.
Now that's what I'm talking about!
You think something like a nuclear blast would stop His Royal Badness?
FUCK NO! IT WON'TNow that's what I'm talking about!
You think something like a nuclear blast would stop His Royal Badness?
The Lieutenant began feeling sick again. He was staring at the ship. How could they have survived? There was no way they could have survived in the wreckage of that thing.
"Christ almighty..." said the Lieutenant. He tried not to think of the horror of the situation. His world was beginning to crash down on him. The loss of his family had never really hit him till now. He was 34 years old. He had a girlfriend who lived in Minneapolis. A father and mother who lived in International Falls. He had a nephew who was on the USS Nimitz, that thing was somewhere in the Persian Gulf. His head began to spin. He took off his helmet as both the Norwegians, soldiers, and police watched his expression fade from his face. He wiped a bead of sweat from his blonde hair. His vision constricted and he fell back on the pavement.
"Shit! Shit! Not another one! Our detachment is dying over here!" screamed a state trooper, sprinting to the Lieutenant's weak body. The Lieutenant came to after only a little bit of slapping. The Lieutenant stared off at the ship and then back at the men.
"We've fucked up boys" he said grimly
"How so sirph?" said the Private, adjusting his rifle and mouth bandage
"We're all done." he replied. Looking blankly at his boots. He took his M9 and pointed it towards the sea. The men behind him grimmaced as he fired a shot at the lake.
"Private. Promotion. You are our new squad leader." said the Lieutenant placing the pistol under his neck
"SIR WAIF!" screamed the Private. It was too late. A shot rang out and the Lieutenant flopped back onto the pavement. Four dead. The detachment of troops was now down to four Norwegians, three MN State Troopers, and two soldiers.
"Goh blessth hem." said the Private grasping his mouth in great pain. He motioned for the quiet Specialist to lead the men. The Specialist had said a grand total of three words throughout the campaign from Stillwater to Duluth. He spoke up
"Right guys...Officer Miettisen, try and radio the boys back at Stillwater. Private keep your mouth shut for now I guess. Uh...Norwegian guys...you can follow. I guess. I'm not a Christian, I'm Jewish, so Private and Officers if you want to say a prayer you may I think." said the Specialist, almost stumbling over his new found power. The Private sang the Battle Hymn of the Republic with a terrible lisp and great pain, but did it regardless. Officer Miettisen began walking towards a small residential home that was abandoned. The men followed, dragging the Lieutenant off the street and laying his body under the porch of his house. Officer Johnson wrote with a sharpie marker on the side of the house:
"ONE U.S. SOLDIER LIES BENEATH THIS HOUSE" scrawling it from one end of the porch to the other. Officer Miettisen proceeded inside, gun drawn. He picked up the phone and dialed Police HQ back in Stillwater. No dial tone. No nothing. The Officer put his elbows on the table, sighing.
"Christ almighty..." said the Lieutenant. He tried not to think of the horror of the situation. His world was beginning to crash down on him. The loss of his family had never really hit him till now. He was 34 years old. He had a girlfriend who lived in Minneapolis. A father and mother who lived in International Falls. He had a nephew who was on the USS Nimitz, that thing was somewhere in the Persian Gulf. His head began to spin. He took off his helmet as both the Norwegians, soldiers, and police watched his expression fade from his face. He wiped a bead of sweat from his blonde hair. His vision constricted and he fell back on the pavement.
"Shit! Shit! Not another one! Our detachment is dying over here!" screamed a state trooper, sprinting to the Lieutenant's weak body. The Lieutenant came to after only a little bit of slapping. The Lieutenant stared off at the ship and then back at the men.
"We've fucked up boys" he said grimly
"How so sirph?" said the Private, adjusting his rifle and mouth bandage
"We're all done." he replied. Looking blankly at his boots. He took his M9 and pointed it towards the sea. The men behind him grimmaced as he fired a shot at the lake.
"Private. Promotion. You are our new squad leader." said the Lieutenant placing the pistol under his neck
"SIR WAIF!" screamed the Private. It was too late. A shot rang out and the Lieutenant flopped back onto the pavement. Four dead. The detachment of troops was now down to four Norwegians, three MN State Troopers, and two soldiers.
"Goh blessth hem." said the Private grasping his mouth in great pain. He motioned for the quiet Specialist to lead the men. The Specialist had said a grand total of three words throughout the campaign from Stillwater to Duluth. He spoke up
"Right guys...Officer Miettisen, try and radio the boys back at Stillwater. Private keep your mouth shut for now I guess. Uh...Norwegian guys...you can follow. I guess. I'm not a Christian, I'm Jewish, so Private and Officers if you want to say a prayer you may I think." said the Specialist, almost stumbling over his new found power. The Private sang the Battle Hymn of the Republic with a terrible lisp and great pain, but did it regardless. Officer Miettisen began walking towards a small residential home that was abandoned. The men followed, dragging the Lieutenant off the street and laying his body under the porch of his house. Officer Johnson wrote with a sharpie marker on the side of the house:
"ONE U.S. SOLDIER LIES BENEATH THIS HOUSE" scrawling it from one end of the porch to the other. Officer Miettisen proceeded inside, gun drawn. He picked up the phone and dialed Police HQ back in Stillwater. No dial tone. No nothing. The Officer put his elbows on the table, sighing.
This is really engrossing.
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It's a pity about the marijuana. I personally think the Lt would have benefited from using it himself. It's supposed to be excellent versus nausea, etc. If they didn't destroy all of it, could they go back for it? Or is it a sad case of tragic waste...
I've subscribed!
It's a pity about the marijuana. I personally think the Lt would have benefited from using it himself. It's supposed to be excellent versus nausea, etc. If they didn't destroy all of it, could they go back for it? Or is it a sad case of tragic waste...
EAST MINNEAPOLIS. MARCH. 1984. 2200 HOURS.
The sun was setting over wartorn Minneapolis. The two 1 MT blasts that have hit both Minneapolis and St. Paul, and the lesser 300KT blast in Lake Superior have devestated Minnesota. The Minnesota Freedom Front, or MFF, was formed soon after the blast by Minneapolitines, who were upset with the National Guard's ability to handle the influx of people fleeing the City of Lakes. The MFF was a faux-revolution to "free" Minnesota. They bribed men and women into their organization with food. Although barely reaching 300 in strength, they were a force to be reckoned with. The US national guardsmen who were currently setting up a radiation sickness treatment center, found themselves in the path of the MFF. Quietly, two MFF snipers armed with .303 Rifles, four MFF rebels stationed themselves at the base of the building, brandishing small pistols, knives, hunting rifles, and in one case, an AR-15.
"Sniper, get ready. Avoid harming anyone but the troops. The Captain leading them is standing near the Jeep. He is smoking a cigar." said the defacto squad leader, aiming his M1 at the corporal brushing snow off his boots.
"Got it...firing in three...two...one..." replied the sniper. The .303 burst through the silence, quickly followed by a M1 garand shot. The Captain fell dead into the snow. The Corporal was hit in the back and lay paralyzed. The six other Guardsmen sprinted for cover.
"I can't...move...my...body...medic...medic..." croaked the dying Corporal. A PFC fired at the snipers with his M4. A shot tore through his neck, dropping and killing him instantly. The five men lined up at the door, kicking it down. They quickly engaged in a CQB battle. Shots hit glassware, furniture, people. Two privates crumpled to the ground with shots in their stomachs. Three MFF soldiers were dead. At the end of the exchange, it was one Guardsmen vs one MFF soldier. The snipers stayed upstairs from the ensuing fight. The Guardsman pounced on the rebel. The rebel punched him in the throat, knocking him off briefly. He pulled out a knife, as did the Corporal. Slashing the rebel across the cheek, the guardsmen did a fencing move. The rebel stabbed the Guardsman swiftly, but the knife was stuck in the body armor of the Corporal. The Corporal aimed his M1911 and shot the rebel in the leg. Reeling in pain, the rebel flailed violently as the two wounded soldiers at the door cheered, trying to stand up. The Corporal oppened the man's pocket. He read to himself
"Minnesota drivers liscense. Eyes Hazel, born January 21st, 1966..." the Lieutenant recoiled.
"Seventeen years old?!" he shouted. The rebel whimpered.
"They wouldn't kill my family if I did it sir...they offered me food."
"Those fucking BASTARDS" shouted the Lieutenant. Upstairs, the sniper and squad leader slowly crawled to the door, preparing to shoot the Lieutenant and his wounded comrades. The MFF squad leader began to point his shotgun towards the unsuspecting Corporal. The Corporal began dragging the kid out the door, staying under the window to avoid fire. The wounded soldiers also crawled towards where the soldier was lying. The Corporal walked back inside and inspected the kitchen.
"TAKE THIS YOU NAZI BASTARD!" screamed the squad leader, stabbing the Corporal in the neck. As the Corporal started to fall in pain, he heard the sound of a Remmington being cocked. The blast was so loud it made his ears ring, but he was not on the recieving end. He saw the squad leader fall. A large white man and a smaller black man stood behind him.
"The names Rick, and his name is Prince."
"Thank you...Rick and....?" said the wounded Lieutenant. He walked to the steps as the men watched him. He tossed a frag grenade into the open door. An explosion smattered the sniper all over the stairs and back wall. The house began to creek.
"It's going to give way soon, help me grab the guys sitting outside the door and drag them to the tent."
THIS ONES FOR YOU CHIPPERBACK!
The sun was setting over wartorn Minneapolis. The two 1 MT blasts that have hit both Minneapolis and St. Paul, and the lesser 300KT blast in Lake Superior have devestated Minnesota. The Minnesota Freedom Front, or MFF, was formed soon after the blast by Minneapolitines, who were upset with the National Guard's ability to handle the influx of people fleeing the City of Lakes. The MFF was a faux-revolution to "free" Minnesota. They bribed men and women into their organization with food. Although barely reaching 300 in strength, they were a force to be reckoned with. The US national guardsmen who were currently setting up a radiation sickness treatment center, found themselves in the path of the MFF. Quietly, two MFF snipers armed with .303 Rifles, four MFF rebels stationed themselves at the base of the building, brandishing small pistols, knives, hunting rifles, and in one case, an AR-15.
"Sniper, get ready. Avoid harming anyone but the troops. The Captain leading them is standing near the Jeep. He is smoking a cigar." said the defacto squad leader, aiming his M1 at the corporal brushing snow off his boots.
"Got it...firing in three...two...one..." replied the sniper. The .303 burst through the silence, quickly followed by a M1 garand shot. The Captain fell dead into the snow. The Corporal was hit in the back and lay paralyzed. The six other Guardsmen sprinted for cover.
"I can't...move...my...body...medic...medic..." croaked the dying Corporal. A PFC fired at the snipers with his M4. A shot tore through his neck, dropping and killing him instantly. The five men lined up at the door, kicking it down. They quickly engaged in a CQB battle. Shots hit glassware, furniture, people. Two privates crumpled to the ground with shots in their stomachs. Three MFF soldiers were dead. At the end of the exchange, it was one Guardsmen vs one MFF soldier. The snipers stayed upstairs from the ensuing fight. The Guardsman pounced on the rebel. The rebel punched him in the throat, knocking him off briefly. He pulled out a knife, as did the Corporal. Slashing the rebel across the cheek, the guardsmen did a fencing move. The rebel stabbed the Guardsman swiftly, but the knife was stuck in the body armor of the Corporal. The Corporal aimed his M1911 and shot the rebel in the leg. Reeling in pain, the rebel flailed violently as the two wounded soldiers at the door cheered, trying to stand up. The Corporal oppened the man's pocket. He read to himself
"Minnesota drivers liscense. Eyes Hazel, born January 21st, 1966..." the Lieutenant recoiled.
"Seventeen years old?!" he shouted. The rebel whimpered.
"They wouldn't kill my family if I did it sir...they offered me food."
"Those fucking BASTARDS" shouted the Lieutenant. Upstairs, the sniper and squad leader slowly crawled to the door, preparing to shoot the Lieutenant and his wounded comrades. The MFF squad leader began to point his shotgun towards the unsuspecting Corporal. The Corporal began dragging the kid out the door, staying under the window to avoid fire. The wounded soldiers also crawled towards where the soldier was lying. The Corporal walked back inside and inspected the kitchen.
"TAKE THIS YOU NAZI BASTARD!" screamed the squad leader, stabbing the Corporal in the neck. As the Corporal started to fall in pain, he heard the sound of a Remmington being cocked. The blast was so loud it made his ears ring, but he was not on the recieving end. He saw the squad leader fall. A large white man and a smaller black man stood behind him.
"The names Rick, and his name is Prince."
"Thank you...Rick and....?" said the wounded Lieutenant. He walked to the steps as the men watched him. He tossed a frag grenade into the open door. An explosion smattered the sniper all over the stairs and back wall. The house began to creek.
"It's going to give way soon, help me grab the guys sitting outside the door and drag them to the tent."
THIS ONES FOR YOU CHIPPERBACK!
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So the singer Prince survived (he was from Minneapolis originally, so it makes sense that he would go back home if tensions got too bad (1)).
(1) Especially if other entertainers left southern California (Debra Winger appears, along with Dick Cavett and Johnny Carson, in Land of Flatwater) and New York. I hope Michael Jackson made it (2).
(2) Though if he went to Gary, he's probably dead.
(1) Especially if other entertainers left southern California (Debra Winger appears, along with Dick Cavett and Johnny Carson, in Land of Flatwater) and New York. I hope Michael Jackson made it (2).
(2) Though if he went to Gary, he's probably dead.
Prince, still alive...There is a really scared kid in the middle of a snowstorm in Nebraska who would be very happy to know that
Prince, still alive...There is a really scared kid in the middle of a snowstorm in Nebraska who would be very happy to know that
Well in my case I'd be a very happy- wait. I wasn't born yet :c nor would I be born until the late 90's either so I get to escape all your fates, muahahahaha!