The First Leg
Posted by v on August 14th, 2006Dear Friends,
The journey has taken its toll. We lost one of members, beloved Ernest, to a devastating mastadon attack perpetrated by the godless natives of the Midwest. It happened thusly. We were resting in the shade of the great white oak, snacking on some provisions and ruminating on what lay ahead of us. We didn’t see it coming. Ernest was out, fearlessly scouting our trail when we heard a strange rumbling. A dust cloud rose up, obscuring our view. By the time we heard his screams and ran to where he was, it was too late. the mastadons had wreaked their havoc. Trained by the native militia of minneapolis, they had tossed him between their tusks, as if he were a mouse, or a small mammal of some sort. All that was left intact was his beloved sharpie pen, and his leg.
In his last moments, he composed a text message and send it out as the ivory sank through his flesh. He wrote:
i dont want u 2 die for ur country. i want u 2 make d other bastard die for his! - patton
His last words were to spur us on and onward we will go! In his memory, we shall conquer these heathens and bring light to the dark lands. Ernest, we will forever hold you dear in our hearts, and remember you always as our fearless scout, going forth into unknown lands and dark hallways.
We will make the other bastards die!!!
Yours truly,
V