Hot Liberty

A short piece of fiction about a possible future war as my entry for Chuck Wendig's Flash Fiction challenge. Enjoy!

It was war.  We were fighting the others. We didn't even know anymore who we were fighting. "Not us" is all we knew. We started calling them "Euraps".  We don't know who started it, it's just something that stuck. Benny64 swears it was from some guy in Unit 6, but TheRealGafton has this idea that it was made up by the higher-ups and "interwoven into our thought-processes to make us more brutal fighters". He was paranoid like that.

We were level 16 Trench Warriors. We fought in the trenches.  We were the only ones who had to wear enviro-suits and actually fight outside, on the ground.  None of the higher-ups ever got to see the ground. They said it was an honor that we got to feel mother America below our feet and fight with our hands instead of behind plastic.  They said our job was important.  We were the only ones who got to see the red sky for real.  We were the only ones who saw the enemy in person.  We were the ones closest to death. 

It was shit.  It was the lowest level.  It was dirty and bloody and demoralizing but if you paid your dues and got to level 20, they upgraded you to a "mechanizer", which means you got to sit back in one of those big machines and take out groups of Euraps with the press of a button. Why couldn't we all start as mechanizers, we would ask. "You can't ALL start out as mechanizers. That's not balanced. That's just the way the system is. You have to pay your dues."  It made sense I guess.

We'd been Trench Warriors for 2 years, we were used to the muck and the blood. We hated it, sure, but we were used to it by now. That was just our life. And we were lucky; we were still alive. That was the important part. Very few Trench Warriors made it to mechanizer because of the death rate. But we were almost there.

We were called into battle early in the morning. We always had to get up early because we had to be ready; we had to be on the front lines. It was me, Benny64, TheRealGafton, DaveIsCats, and Gaylord420.  Gaylord420 was a good soldier.  He was almost level 19, but he wasn't the friendly type. For the battle, it would be us, Unit 43, Unit 20, and Unit 59, and 2 mechanizers. And we'd have a Generalisimo guiding our actions as always.

We got there early, prepped our rifles, said our little prayer, "May we all find our way home...in bed." and Prepared for the worst. DaveisCats was scared out of his mind. "This time is different" He said. He was still pretty new, only level 3.  He hadn't learned the trick to war that me and Benny64 had known: always go in expecting to die.

And then it started and we realized DaveIsCats was right. This was different. The Euraps must have upgraded their training or their weapons. It was brutal.  People on both sides getting slaughtered. The mechanizers did the best they could, but they had to deal with the LaserCunts (We don't know what Euraps called those big laser machines, we just knew the name that everyone called them). It was up to us to hold the line against the invading Euraps. 

I was surprised how many headshots I got. That would really help my score. In the corner of my eye I could see DaveIsCats hiding in a trench, not trying to kill anybody. I didn't care too much.  It's his problem if he doesn't get any kills and can't level up. More kills for us. He'd just have to learn like we all did.

I had just run out of ammo and was busy reloading when a shot grazed my cheek. A Eurap was right there. I didn't have time to reload. I pulled out my knife and threw it straight into his facemask. He fell over in a slump. I remember it was the first time I'd laughed and shouted in months. I'd never got a "direct knife kill". I'd go up a level and get an achievement to boot. I was so happy at my luck, how he'd been only slightly off. I turned to Benny64. And I realized he hadn't been off. He had got a perfect head shot, just not on me.

When the battle cleared, the four of us huddled around Benny64. We were in a predicament. We hadn't yet logged in our kills.  If we took Benny64's kills, he'd be labeled a coward, but we'd all go up to mechanizer.  I've heard of people doing it, and the higher-ups didn't care one way or the other. It's just how the system worked. Gaylord420 had enough kills already; he walked away, not saying a word to us. DaveIsCats wanted to do it of course. He'd seen enough of the trenches. But Benny64 was the closest friend I'd ever had in this stupid war.

TheRealGafton and me agreed. We'd split the kills. We took enough so that we'd go up a level, and gave a few to DaveIsCats. He still had a while to go anyways, and we though he needed to learn.  We gave Benny64 enough that he'd get the "Died with honor" achievement. His family would be happy at least. We put in our kills, and said goodbye to DaveIsCats. Gaylord420 didn't come with us. He wanted more kills. TheRealGafton said maybe he was trying to go for the specialized Trench Warrior. It got more perks and maybe he'd get a nice achievement. 

We got to stay in luxurious new boarding room with two other older mechanizers. Well it was luxurious for us anyways, they were tired of it. Soft beds, new uniforms, more exotic food rations, a com-phone with games and even a common room TV.  I tried figuring out the TV flipping through channels. I couldn't get the wave movements right. The other mechanizers laughed at our naiveté. Had they ever been that young?  I found a page where I could customize my personal mechanizer, my uniform, even my bunkspace.  One of the Mechanizers, SamSamMike, explained it to me.

All the customize mods were bought with points. The way you got points was by rationing your food more. Not eat a meal for a day and you'd get maybe 5 points. For reference, there was a "Hot Liberty" mod, which was a little plastic Statue of Liberty you could place in the cockpit of your mechanizer that if you touched it, her clothes fell off.  It was 50 points.

I stopped for a minute and then me and TheRealGafton burst out laughing. Just uproarious laughter, something we hadn't experienced for years. We didn't know why we were laughing, but looking back, I guess I was laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. You had to give up on your needs to get a little bit of something useless you wanted. That's just the way the world works.

I talked with TheRealGafton and SamSamMike about my amazing knife kill, but in the back of my mind, I was trying to figure out which days I could stand not to eat.

Two Tickets to the Gunshow

This is a short bit of fiction for one of Chuck Wendig's Flash Fiction contests. You should go check him out.

My eardrums are blown out in a cacophony of bullets. I'd put in the earplugs Perry handed me earlier if I didn't need to hear where Sammy was. Perry's huddled beside me with his hands over his ears. I hug the steel table and hold my pistol close. Perry keeps telling me "It's a revolver you jackass!" Revolver. Whatever. It sounds like every gun ever made is shooting at us. I wait for the storm of enraged bees to let up a bit so I can pop my head out. It doesn't. I fuckin' hate guns.

"You think you can just waltz in here, waive your badge around, and take ME in?! In a freakin' gun show?! You must be the stupidest fuck on the force!"

Perry tries to glare at me through squinted eyes and muted ears. I think he agrees with the guy. I'm inclined to do the same. Whatever. I just shoot the damn things, it's not like I need to be a connoisseur or nothing.

Bullets fly past my hair making me wish I had a receding hairline. I see holes in the wall the size of golf balls. What the hell are they shooting at us?

"That's a M1919 Browning machine gun! How'd they get a hold of that?!"

Thanks perry. Knew there was a reason I brought you along. Well yeah, he's the gun expert. That IS the whole reason I brought him along. Whatever. I just wish he knew how to shoot.

"Cmon out pigs! I ain't got all day!"

"We just want to know who you sold the gun to, Sammy! the uh-"

"38 Weston special!"

"Yeah that! What he said!"

The cacophony starts up again. I don't think he heard me.

"I ain't tellin' you shit man!"

Ok, so he's just an asshole. Good to know. Jesus, how many gun nut friends does he have out there? I'll tell you one thing, me and Perry are not dying here. This is too ironic a death for either of us.

I fire off a few rounds over their heads, then I throw my coat to the left of me, while I duck out on the right. They go to the bait like a swarm of flies to dung. Before I duck behind a column, I notice how many friends Sammy has. One beefy guy in a wife beater and a ponytail, one with squinty little eyes and big coke bottle glasses in a fishing vest, one in shades and a snakeskin jacket, oh wait and everyone else in the building showing their right to bear arms. Oh and they all have guns. So. Many. Guns. Just making sure they’re not throwing bullets at me.

I clip Mr. snakeskin in the shoulder to get their attention off Perry. Snakeskin drops his whatever millimeter whatever and goes down clutching his arm like the little baby he is. That’s how I’m hoping a lot of ‘em will go down.

“Now why don’t you put your toys down and come answer teacher’s question?”

“You want toys?! I’ll give you toys!”

“No toys is the opposite of what I-“

“That’s an AK-47!”

Before I can thank Perry for that oh so important piece of information, I hear a string of profanities erupt from that AC-40 Gerald’s holding.

“Are we gonna let him impede on our second amendment rights?!”

An uproar of ‘hell no’s from the yokels meets Sammy’s proclamation. And then an uproar of bullets. I look to my right and see some jackass point something long at me. I stub his toe and take it from him. Shotgun? Shotgun. One of Sammy’s bullets rips through the guy’s leg. I fire off a few rounds in Sammy’s direction. No luck.

“That’s a coach gun! You can’t use it at long range!”

What, first they got names and now they got rules? Pretty soon they’ll be wanting the right to vote. I throw the coach gun away and grab something from a nearby table, as a duck underneath. I hold it over my head for a few seconds to get Perry’s attention.

“Will this thing work?”

“That’s an M16 Assault Rifle!”

“Not answering my question!”

“YES! Shoot the thing!”

Me and Perry. We have our good times. I unload a clip in the general direction of the gun club. They scatter like silverfish. Sammy gets scared. I see him run off. I follow with my trusty pistol revolver. And then I feel something rip through my calf as the floor punches me hard. I’m bleeding, a little disoriented. I see squinty eyes walking in my general direction looking a little too happy with what he’s carrying…and what he’s about to do. I split those coke bottles in one shot.

But here’s the problem: That was my last bullet. Damn it. Should have waited till squinty eyes was closer. Sammy strolls up lookin’ like the kid who caught the bullfrog in a jar. I don’t need to know what he’s pointing at me to know what it’ll do to my insides.

“So Sammy, you ready to tell me who you sold that gun too?”

“Oh detective, you’re a funny one! You won’t be so funny when I-“

And then I see the most ridiculous thing of this whole goddamn adventure. Perry runs up with a sword-an honest to God swashbuckler’s sword-and drives it straight through Sammy’s shoulder. Sammy’s cry of pain as he goes down is Beethoven to my ears. Perry’s huffing and puffing from the adrenaline while I try to stand on my last leg.

“Perry, just who in the hell brings a knife to a gunfight?”

a dysfunctional renaissance fair

I actually did this one awhile ago but kept forgetting to upload it.

The iron horses
rusted squeaking and skwaking
let out clanging neighs
as the children tug on their copper ears the king sits on his thrown
sipping on his second 32 oz. cup of mead
as he tries to look down the queens corset for the
37th time?
The queen has since lost count
and lost interest
Her interest is not on the night
tall lanky and awkward
in his glimmering well kept armor
but of the stable boy
the stable man
in his wife beater and low hanging jeans
that he should be hanged for wearing such out of place attire
the jester fails to jest
as he loses his magic the gathering cards from his backpack
and none of the knights can agree
or disagree
on whether lost or batllestar had the worst ending
and the blacksmith sits in his shop looking up from his iphone every now and then
while his wench tears at a mutton leg with her plastic fork and knife
all in all they all agree
this was much better than last years comicon.

High Fructose Corn Syrup You Filthy Whore

High fructose corn syrup you filthy whore
You caked up slut
You sugary sweet destitute prostitute, selling yourself to any junky stoner or third grader that will have you
You have your slushy syrupy hands in w everything
I know your story
You came from a small town out in Nebraska
A simple stalk
Innocent
A virgin
With wet suguary dreams
You came here
To the city
To the factories
To the candy colored work houses
They fed you lies saying they would make you sweeter
More mature
More full bodied
And then they raped you
Disfigured you
Mutated you
Poluted and diluted and over sweetened you
And put you in ever cardboard box, coke can and candy wrapper they could stuff you
Do you even know who you are anymore?
What's inside you?
What you've become?
You're a joke
A gag
A diseased ridden whore for men in cheap suits
Oh your sweet cracked lips
Your deceptive body
You go down so smooth so easy
You're there without me even askin you to be there
How I wish I didn't love you
How I wish i wasn't hooked on you
How I wish I could cut you away from my life completely
But you're in my vains too deep
You're glucose in my bloodstream
You're a honey silk dominatrix
And I am your rushing crashing addicted slave.

Explosion

There's a girl
Dark hair, blond hair, redhead
With glasses
C cups D cups double D cups
And she's a librarian?
No no
She's a school girl
Yes yes
She's been naughty
Yes yes
She's been a naughty school girl in her short school girl skirt and school girl Glasses and schoolgirl panties
Did I email back that guy that job offer
No damn it she's a school girl
No wait she's a redhead and a doctor
Yes yes
A sexy doctor
Yes yes
No she's a nurse in a white gown and white stockings and she needs an injection
And I should remember to DVR house later and
No god no
Ok she's a secretary
A biker chick
A dominatrix
Sexy secretary biker chick dominatrix with leather
I forgot to call my mother
NO FUCK NO
Legs, boobs, glasses, arms, pay the bills, table, knees, bed, rope, iron still on, lips, tits, arched back, door closed? heels, big heels, shouting, screaming, moaning, adventure time, grabbing, thrusting, indian girl, big eyes, facebook, breast, open skirt, pussy, wet, cringe, lips, breasts, NEW GREETING CARD!
I need a new girlfriend.

Dreaming Dejavu

Have I dreamed this before?
Twenty one days ago
Or maybe it was a month or two months or a week
I woke up from a dream
And I couldn't quite remember what it was about
But it felt familiar
More than that it felt like it would feel familiar
Someday
And today,
I get a sense I've done this before
Said this before
Experienced this experience before
And I remember back to that dream I had
Twenty one days ago
Or maybe a month or two months or a week
And it feels familiar now
Like it felt familiar then
Or that it feels familiar like it would feel familiar
At least I think it does
And I get a sense of dejavu
And the strangest thing
The very strangest thing I have about this strange feeling
Is that I remember in that dream I had
Twenty one days ago
Or a month or two months or a week
I remember getting dejavu
About having this feeling.
At least I think I did.

That Last Moment

In a moment, this moment I am experiencing
Right now, with you
This moment we are both sharing
Will pass and be lost in a thousand billion moments we've already experienced.
This moment
This moment that you are experiencing with me right now
In only a moment in time
Not even a year or a week or a day or an hour
But even in a moment in time
You will remember this moment
This moment we both have shared
And you will question whether this moment ever existed
Or if it is one of the many false moments you've made up in your head.
Remember,
Remember that even in this moment
You knew your future self would question the existence of this moment
Remember that you remember questioning yourself about this moment
And realize this question will not help you qualify this moment's existence at all,
It will merely serve to make you question all future past moments.