“I think anyone else would have gone crazy by now.” “You’re handling this better than you have any right to, by the way,” he said, reaching over and taking my hand. “I wish I’d known all that before I got kidnapped.” Getting shot fucking hurts I do not recommend it. Car chases are fucking terrifying, and having people trying to kill you is worse. In reality, shooting a gun and hitting what you’re aiming at is hard, and killing a man is harder. Being a badass is expensive as hell, which is something no one ever tells you. I spent a small fortune just on the guns. It’s just funny.” I didn’t really expect him to catch the Toy Story quote, but hey, I had to try. “‘You’re mocking me, aren’t you?’” I asked. Maybe we can invent our own gun and call it the ‘thugbuster’.” I mean, I do get that it’s all online and whatever, but that’s the mental image I have.” Like you have a secret knock and shit, and there are tables full of guns and there’s someone that runs a business called Goons ’R’ Us. “I really do know better, I swear, but…I’ve always pictured the black market as being, like, a secret warehouse somewhere, like an actual secret marketplace. But that’s why it’s called the ‘black market’, right?” Just so you’re totally aware, having a bag full of assault rifles is, obviously, highly illegal, regardless of what country you’re in. It’s like magic.”īy now we were on a two-lane highway that led through absolutely nowhere, the horizon flat as a ruler in every direction. Who do you call that can just get a fucking airplane? Where do you get assault rifles? This shit doesn’t just…appear in real life. And when we land…there’s a military-grade Humvee waiting for us. And there’s an actual plane just…waiting for us. And then you’ve got a real life Terminator who shoots big ass machine guns like it’s a goddamned toy. You go on not one, not two, but three real-life car chases with people shooting at us and everything. Like, you show up with a bag full of machine guns-sorry, assault rifles. But none of that, except for you, is true. You shoot a car in the engine and it explodes. “It’s just…none of what’s happened to me has been like I thought it would be. “What was it you were laughing about, now that we’ve got basic terminology out of the way?” What Thresh had on the cargo plane, that was a machine gun.” And AK-47s, M-16s, those kinds of things…those are assault rifles, not machine guns. Pistols have clips, assault rifles have magazines. A chopper is a motorcycle, not a helicopter. I’m a soldier, and we tend to get picky about that kind of thing. He had the good sense to laugh at himself. It should never, ever, be called a Hummer.” A Hummer is one of two things: a piece of shit civilian vehicle that shares literally no DNA with what I’m driving right now, or it’s a blowjob. “It’s not a fucking Hummer,” he snapped, “it’s a Humvee. “Magically procure guns and airplanes and military Hummers-” I buckled myself in and laughed as a thought occurred to me. Harris turned the engine over, and it made a rattling bass diesel growl. No, this was the military Hummer, huge, wide, tan, with a sloping rear roof and a brutally spartan interior. There was a Hummer waiting for us, but it wasn’t the civilian version, the watered down derivative. As soon as we landed-once again on a too-short landing strip in the middle of nowhere, Harris effortlessly bringing the big aircraft down with a single gentle bump and bark of the tires-Thresh, now clothed in a tight T-shirt and canvas boat shoes, jumped onto a waiting Harley and roared off without even waving at me. After Brazil, Florida seemed relatively temperate.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |