metal slug gear
let's start in the middle, because where else would you want to begin? all good stuff starts in the middle right? dreams don't have a beginning, you just pop into them with a full history and personality.
i am pulling a bullet the size of a shot glass out of my arm. the slurp of blood and flesh. ouch. it's rather big isn't it, i think to myself. there's some writing on the side i can't read. there are a few more in my leg too. i can see a bulge or two from where they are lodged.
people are looking for me. they find me, and want to know "the truth". the truth is very simple, or, what i know is very simple: the senator is a crook, and he gave the order. i don't know what order. but the people looking for me aren't satisfied and they want me to tell them everything. but i don't know everything - i don't even know any more. they pump more bullets into the rest of my limbs, so that it hurts but i won't die. ow ow owch. they ask more questions. i am concentrating on the mutliple bulges in both my arms where the huge slugs have lodged themselves. after a little more torture, a very helpful girl assists me in making an escape.
i don't get far. the pain in my limbs is quite intense. i get caught by a completely different group of people looking for me, but wanting to know the same thing, and using the same methods. they grab my arm and are about to put more giant bullets in me but i tell them to stop, sob, i'll tell you everything. so i guess they must be just like the other group and i string a long tale about what i know and how i know it and a whole lot of other shit and somewhere in the midst of everything mention that the senator is a crook and he gave the order.
satisfied that they have learnt the extent of my knowledge and that it is harmless, they spare me more bulges in my limbs. Now i try to walk away, but it's too painful because there is just too much metal in my limbs, grating against bone and rubbing under my skin and just weighing me down. can't... hardly... move... eventually i sit down next to a stainless steel sink and begin yanking out the rounds, one by one. clink clink clink. the excruciating feel of digging fairly large cylinders out of my arms and looking at the holes they leave.
whew. the sink is full of these slugs, there's no more space. what am i going to do? i still have all of those in my legs (and it's too painful to walk to another sink).
perhaps i should have removed those in my leg first? but i needed to remove those in my arms to free them. oh dear.
i am pulling a bullet the size of a shot glass out of my arm. the slurp of blood and flesh. ouch. it's rather big isn't it, i think to myself. there's some writing on the side i can't read. there are a few more in my leg too. i can see a bulge or two from where they are lodged.
people are looking for me. they find me, and want to know "the truth". the truth is very simple, or, what i know is very simple: the senator is a crook, and he gave the order. i don't know what order. but the people looking for me aren't satisfied and they want me to tell them everything. but i don't know everything - i don't even know any more. they pump more bullets into the rest of my limbs, so that it hurts but i won't die. ow ow owch. they ask more questions. i am concentrating on the mutliple bulges in both my arms where the huge slugs have lodged themselves. after a little more torture, a very helpful girl assists me in making an escape.
i don't get far. the pain in my limbs is quite intense. i get caught by a completely different group of people looking for me, but wanting to know the same thing, and using the same methods. they grab my arm and are about to put more giant bullets in me but i tell them to stop, sob, i'll tell you everything. so i guess they must be just like the other group and i string a long tale about what i know and how i know it and a whole lot of other shit and somewhere in the midst of everything mention that the senator is a crook and he gave the order.
satisfied that they have learnt the extent of my knowledge and that it is harmless, they spare me more bulges in my limbs. Now i try to walk away, but it's too painful because there is just too much metal in my limbs, grating against bone and rubbing under my skin and just weighing me down. can't... hardly... move... eventually i sit down next to a stainless steel sink and begin yanking out the rounds, one by one. clink clink clink. the excruciating feel of digging fairly large cylinders out of my arms and looking at the holes they leave.
whew. the sink is full of these slugs, there's no more space. what am i going to do? i still have all of those in my legs (and it's too painful to walk to another sink).
perhaps i should have removed those in my leg first? but i needed to remove those in my arms to free them. oh dear.
posted by pure at
9:16:00 PM
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