Tonight We Win This War!

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Tonight We Win This War!

Post  El Guapo on Sat May 21, 2011 3:33 pm

They didn't even exist.

At least, not officially. To the World they were the Candyman. They were a fictional fairy tale. The mana of fools. But tonight, unofficially, and deep within Islamabad, they were real enough.

Navy SEAL team 6.

Leiutenant Rogers. First name Buck. 47 years old and a Gulf war veteran. He'd seen it all and he'd taken pictures whilst smoking a fine cigar. Heavy Machine Gunner Cole. First name Tyson. Hailing from South Central LA he was well used to shooting innocent crowds with heavy artillary and so was a natural choice. Explosives Expert Bush. First name Clinton. The son of a humble urban demolition supervisor in New York he learnt his trade from a very young age. Finally there was Support Gunner Juan Jesus De La Santa De Maria Rosario. The gang nicknamed him Spic for short.

The mission was classified. Not even Rogers knew the exact details. He knew that they were pursuing a target but the identity still remained unknown. It didn't matter anyway. They were all just game ready for hunting anyhow. One towelhead was just the same as another in Rogers's opinion.

The helicopter they were flying in began to lose altitude. Rogers could faintly see in the nighttime gloom a concrete compound slowly begin to materialise.

"Lock and load boys!" Rogers shouted above the din of the helicopter blades. "We are Code Red repeat Code Red! That's Code Rosso for you Spic! Lock and load ladies!"

"Yessir!" Came a loud unanimous reply shortly followed by a meek "Si Senor," from Spic.

The team readied themselves for combat as the compound arrived underneath the belly of the helicopter. One by one they silently rappelled out the side to the ground below each hitting the floor in a gentle poof of dust.

The compound was a large rectangular shape. There were solid concrete walls surrounding the entire circumfrence that Rogers could only guess at the thickness of with only one entrance into the compound courtyard. Running along the top of this concrete wall were two rows of razor wire. In the far end of the compound was what Rogers assumed were the living quarters of their target.

"Go silent," Rogers whispered to his team as he enabled the suppressor on his rifle. "Follow me," he then ordered and began to ease towards the building.

They had made it about half way across when the armed woman appeared. Well, armed is what the report would say later and as, Rogers later reasoned with his conscience, she was armed then the fact that of what she was armed with, namely a wooden spoon, which may not necessarily be considered dangerous by most people, was irrelevant. The facts were a woman holding an object that looked like a gun suddenly appeared in the doorway in front of them.

"Die muthafucka!" Cole screamed and unleashed a hail of bullets. The compound lit up with the flash of the machine gun's muzzle as Cole tore the woman apart. "She was armed LT! Bitch was armed but I got that bitch! Yessir! She made a move! Y'all saw that? She made a goddam move and I wasted the bitch. Waste first ask questions later ain't tha right LT?"

Before Rogers could answer there was the sound of a solitary shot as Spic discharged his secondary weapon into the woman's temple. "Toro," they heard him mutter darkly.

"Dammit Cole, we have lost the element of surprise!" Rogers screamed. Suddenly there was the sound of a grenade exploding. Clinton, upon hearing the LT tell them surprise was no longer an issue, had decided to join in the game by lobbing a grenade at the living quarters.

"Play ball!!" Clinton shrieked in ecstasy. "Did you see the size of that explosion LT?!"

"Everybody cease your fucking fire!" Shouted Rogers angrily.

"Que?"

"That mean's no more fucking Toro until I say so, Spic!" Rogers growled.

Before Spic could reply another figure appeared in the doorway. He was naked other than an old grey towel around his head and a pair of grubby looking underpants. He looked out over the courtyard at the bloody carnage on view.

"No. twoooooooooooo! American GI bastards! What are you doing to No. two? I am having fucking bathings! Fuck out on you American GI bastards!" He wailed before dashing back inside.

From behind Rogers there was another hail of machine gun fire as Cole peppered the doorway where the man had been standing seconds before.

"Cole cease your fire!" Cole screamed in a near fit of outraged apoplexy.

"LT! Don't you recognise that muthafucka? That's him LT! THat's our target! That's the muthafucka on CNN!"

"Jey Leno? Bueno. I hate dees Jay Leno sonofabeetch," said Spic quietly. "Toro," he then added as an afterthought.

"Nobody is toroing Jay Leno! Here in Pakistan or back at home! You got that Spic?!" Rogers barked angrily. "Clinton! Put those damn sticks of TNT away! Cole! You fire that weapon one more Goddam time and I'll shoot you myself, you got that?! Now follow ME!"

Rogers darted inside the building and the team followed. All the lights had been switched off and there was total silence. Then, unexpectedly, the silence was broken by a low hiss. Spic groaned quietly.

"Lo siento amigos. Fajitas for lunch..."

Clinton grimaced. "You dir-"

"Shhh!" Rogers hissed, cutting him off. He's around this corner.

Rogers edged to the corner of the corridor, cocked his weapon and then leaped out into the room. The rest of the team charged in behind him.

"FREEZE! GIVE IT UP BIN LADEN!" Bellowed ROgers to the small, aging pakistani man that was cowering underneath an old bed.

"Well of course I am freezing I am having no damn bloody clothes on because American GI bastard are breaking into my home and are shooting people ever-"

Cole ran over to the man and shoved the muzzle of his machine gun into the man's mouth. "Try talking now muthafucka!" Cole shouted triumphantly.

Spic looked over at the LT. "Toro?" he asked hopefully.

"Not yet Spic. First we gotta ask this bastard some questions" Rogers answered.

Clinton, who had said nothing up until now, suddenly spoke.

"Questions. That's right LT. I've got some questions for him. I wanna know how the hell he thought he could get away with telling us those planes made those towers collapse. That's bullshit. We demolitions experts take pride in our work and I'm not letting some bastard take all the credit for what was, ultimately, a perfect demolition job. Now all innocent deaths aside you gotta admire the handcraft of the charges that brought the building down. Too much and the place would explode. Too little and it wouldn't implode. It was pure genius whoever placed those. And I'm not having his hard work undermined by some ALL THE CREDIT TAKING TERRORIST BASTARD! YOU HEAR ME MR BIN LADEN?! I KNOW those towers didn't collapse because of those planes! That CAN'T happen! It goes against every LAW OF PHYSICS! So you CAN'T take all the credit? You hear me?! YOU FUCKING HEAR ME YOU SONOFABITCH?!"

Clinton was losing control. Three generations of demolition supervising had embedded themselves in his very genes. Demolition was his reason for being. Demolition was in his blood. And he'd be damned if he would let some random terrorist undermine all his families hard work.

"Now you tell me straight! You didn't act alone didya?! Clinton screamed, spraying spittle into Bin Ladens face. "You had help in bringing those towers down didn't you?! ADMIT IT!"

"At ease Clinton!" Ordered Rogers but it was no use. Clinton was a man possessed. Rogers watched as Clinton pulled his handgun out of it's holster and placed it at the back of Bin Laden's head.

"You admit to me now that someone else brought down those towers or so help me God..."

"God? There is no God but Allah..." Bin Laden began before Clinton snapped and fired his weapon spraying Bin Laden's brains over the bed's mattress.

"GODDAM!" Cole exclaimed, clearly impressed. "Toro.." another small voice whispered, equally appreciatively. The only person not impressed was LT Rogers.

"You asshole Clinton! Now what the hell do we tell the General?"

"Ah...sarge..." Began Cole.

"This mission was to bring him in ALIVE!"

"Ahhh...Sarge...I think you should take a look at this Sarge..."

"What is it Cole?!" Rogers turned to face his heavy machine gunner. Cole was holding an envelope in his hands. He passed it over to the LT.

"I saw this on the floor Sarge. Take a look at the name on the...ah...address"

Rogers read the address label and his face paled.

"This..this...this isn't Bin Laden?" He stammered. The name on the address label read Mustufa Rongi. "But...he's...brown? And he has a beard?"

"Ok ok ok...damage limitation boys. Here's what happened," Rogers began. "We broke into this compound under heavy fire. This WAS Bin Laden? Everyone understand that? We can dump the body over the ocean before we reach base and nobody will ever be the wiser. Now Bin Laden's bitch was armed with a rocket launcher. Ok? Bin Laden himself armed with a shotgun, no, a rifle, no an AK-47 which he began to fire indiscriminately before grabbing his wife as a shield. Important point to stress, the wife was already dead when Cole shot her. Bin Laden then ran into the living quarters before his last stand in which he was shot in the back of the head by a freakishly accurate shot by Clinton. Everyone got that??"

The team nodded in reply.

"Well then lock and load boys. Lets get outta here. God Bless America!!"

The End.

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Re: Tonight We Win This War!

Post  EarthsAngel on Sun May 22, 2011 11:40 am

Bloody brilliant El.

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Re: Tonight We Win This War!

Post  EarthsAngel on Tue Jun 21, 2011 11:48 am

Just read this again, it's even funnier 2nd time around...well done El

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Re: Tonight We Win This War!

Post  Shine on Tue Jun 21, 2011 2:52 pm

El Guapo wrote:They didn't even exist.

At least, not officially. To the World they were the Candyman. They were a fictional fairy tale. The mana of fools. But tonight, unofficially, and deep within Islamabad, they were real enough.

Navy SEAL team 6.

Leiutenant Rogers. First name Buck. 47 years old and a Gulf war veteran. He'd seen it all and he'd taken pictures whilst smoking a fine cigar. Heavy Machine Gunner Cole. First name Tyson. Hailing from South Central LA he was well used to shooting innocent crowds with heavy artillary and so was a natural choice. Explosives Expert Bush. First name Clinton. The son of a humble urban demolition supervisor in New York he learnt his trade from a very young age. Finally there was Support Gunner Juan Jesus De La Santa De Maria Rosario. The gang nicknamed him Spic for short.

The mission was classified. Not even Rogers knew the exact details. He knew that they were pursuing a target but the identity still remained unknown. It didn't matter anyway. They were all just game ready for hunting anyhow. One towelhead was just the same as another in Rogers's opinion.

The helicopter they were flying in began to lose altitude. Rogers could faintly see in the nighttime gloom a concrete compound slowly begin to materialise.

"Lock and load boys!" Rogers shouted above the din of the helicopter blades. "We are Code Red repeat Code Red! That's Code Rosso for you Spic! Lock and load ladies!"

"Yessir!" Came a loud unanimous reply shortly followed by a meek "Si Senor," from Spic.

The team readied themselves for combat as the compound arrived underneath the belly of the helicopter. One by one they silently rappelled out the side to the ground below each hitting the floor in a gentle poof of dust.

The compound was a large rectangular shape. There were solid concrete walls surrounding the entire circumfrence that Rogers could only guess at the thickness of with only one entrance into the compound courtyard. Running along the top of this concrete wall were two rows of razor wire. In the far end of the compound was what Rogers assumed were the living quarters of their target.

"Go silent," Rogers whispered to his team as he enabled the suppressor on his rifle. "Follow me," he then ordered and began to ease towards the building.

They had made it about half way across when the armed woman appeared. Well, armed is what the report would say later and as, Rogers later reasoned with his conscience, she was armed then the fact that of what she was armed with, namely a wooden spoon, which may not necessarily be considered dangerous by most people, was irrelevant. The facts were a woman holding an object that looked like a gun suddenly appeared in the doorway in front of them.

"Die muthafucka!" Cole screamed and unleashed a hail of bullets. The compound lit up with the flash of the machine gun's muzzle as Cole tore the woman apart. "She was armed LT! Bitch was armed but I got that bitch! Yessir! She made a move! Y'all saw that? She made a goddam move and I wasted the bitch. Waste first ask questions later ain't tha right LT?"

Before Rogers could answer there was the sound of a solitary shot as Spic discharged his secondary weapon into the woman's temple. "Toro," they heard him mutter darkly.

"Dammit Cole, we have lost the element of surprise!" Rogers screamed. Suddenly there was the sound of a grenade exploding. Clinton, upon hearing the LT tell them surprise was no longer an issue, had decided to join in the game by lobbing a grenade at the living quarters.

"Play ball!!" Clinton shrieked in ecstasy. "Did you see the size of that explosion LT?!"

"Everybody cease your fucking fire!" Shouted Rogers angrily.

"Que?"

"That mean's no more fucking Toro until I say so, Spic!" Rogers growled.

Before Spic could reply another figure appeared in the doorway. He was naked other than an old grey towel around his head and a pair of grubby looking underpants. He looked out over the courtyard at the bloody carnage on view.

"No. twoooooooooooo! American GI bastards! What are you doing to No. two? I am having fucking bathings! Fuck out on you American GI bastards!" He wailed before dashing back inside.

From behind Rogers there was another hail of machine gun fire as Cole peppered the doorway where the man had been standing seconds before.

"Cole cease your fire!" Cole screamed in a near fit of outraged apoplexy.

"LT! Don't you recognise that muthafucka? That's him LT! THat's our target! That's the muthafucka on CNN!"

"Jey Leno? Bueno. I hate dees Jay Leno sonofabeetch," said Spic quietly. "Toro," he then added as an afterthought.

"Nobody is toroing Jay Leno! Here in Pakistan or back at home! You got that Spic?!" Rogers barked angrily. "Clinton! Put those damn sticks of TNT away! Cole! You fire that weapon one more Goddam time and I'll shoot you myself, you got that?! Now follow ME!"

Rogers darted inside the building and the team followed. All the lights had been switched off and there was total silence. Then, unexpectedly, the silence was broken by a low hiss. Spic groaned quietly.

"Lo siento amigos. Fajitas for lunch..."

Clinton grimaced. "You dir-"

"Shhh!" Rogers hissed, cutting him off. He's around this corner.

Rogers edged to the corner of the corridor, cocked his weapon and then leaped out into the room. The rest of the team charged in behind him.

"FREEZE! GIVE IT UP BIN LADEN!" Bellowed ROgers to the small, aging pakistani man that was cowering underneath an old bed.

"Well of course I am freezing I am having no damn bloody clothes on because American GI bastard are breaking into my home and are shooting people ever-"

Cole ran over to the man and shoved the muzzle of his machine gun into the man's mouth. "Try talking now muthafucka!" Cole shouted triumphantly.

Spic looked over at the LT. "Toro?" he asked hopefully.

"Not yet Spic. First we gotta ask this bastard some questions" Rogers answered.

Clinton, who had said nothing up until now, suddenly spoke.

"Questions. That's right LT. I've got some questions for him. I wanna know how the hell he thought he could get away with telling us those planes made those towers collapse. That's bullshit. We demolitions experts take pride in our work and I'm not letting some bastard take all the credit for what was, ultimately, a perfect demolition job. Now all innocent deaths aside you gotta admire the handcraft of the charges that brought the building down. Too much and the place would explode. Too little and it wouldn't implode. It was pure genius whoever placed those. And I'm not having his hard work undermined by some ALL THE CREDIT TAKING TERRORIST BASTARD! YOU HEAR ME MR BIN LADEN?! I KNOW those towers didn't collapse because of those planes! That CAN'T happen! It goes against every LAW OF PHYSICS! So you CAN'T take all the credit? You hear me?! YOU FUCKING HEAR ME YOU SONOFABITCH?!"

Clinton was losing control. Three generations of demolition supervising had embedded themselves in his very genes. Demolition was his reason for being. Demolition was in his blood. And he'd be damned if he would let some random terrorist undermine all his families hard work.

"Now you tell me straight! You didn't act alone didya?! Clinton screamed, spraying spittle into Bin Ladens face. "You had help in bringing those towers down didn't you?! ADMIT IT!"

"At ease Clinton!" Ordered Rogers but it was no use. Clinton was a man possessed. Rogers watched as Clinton pulled his handgun out of it's holster and placed it at the back of Bin Laden's head.

"You admit to me now that someone else brought down those towers or so help me God..."

"God? There is no God but Allah..." Bin Laden began before Clinton snapped and fired his weapon spraying Bin Laden's brains over the bed's mattress.

"GODDAM!" Cole exclaimed, clearly impressed. "Toro.." another small voice whispered, equally appreciatively. The only person not impressed was LT Rogers.

"You asshole Clinton! Now what the hell do we tell the General?"

"Ah...sarge..." Began Cole.

"This mission was to bring him in ALIVE!"

"Ahhh...Sarge...I think you should take a look at this Sarge..."

"What is it Cole?!" Rogers turned to face his heavy machine gunner. Cole was holding an envelope in his hands. He passed it over to the LT.

"I saw this on the floor Sarge. Take a look at the name on the...ah...address"

Rogers read the address label and his face paled.

"This..this...this isn't Bin Laden?" He stammered. The name on the address label read Mustufa Rongi. "But...he's...brown? And he has a beard?"

"Ok ok ok...damage limitation boys. Here's what happened," Rogers began. "We broke into this compound under heavy fire. This WAS Bin Laden? Everyone understand that? We can dump the body over the ocean before we reach base and nobody will ever be the wiser. Now Bin Laden's bitch was armed with a rocket launcher. Ok? Bin Laden himself armed with a shotgun, no, a rifle, no an AK-47 which he began to fire indiscriminately before grabbing his wife as a shield. Important point to stress, the wife was already dead when Cole shot her. Bin Laden then ran into the living quarters before his last stand in which he was shot in the back of the head by a freakishly accurate shot by Clinton. Everyone got that??"

The team nodded in reply.

"Well then lock and load boys. Lets get outta here. God Bless America!!"

The End.

Excelent, El. I might write one: Bill Clinton's Day in White with 'Blow Job.'

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Re: Tonight We Win This War!

Post  El Guapo on Wed Jun 22, 2011 7:31 am

Glad you guys enjoyed it Smile

Go for it Mr S. We all want to read something of yours now!

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