Aces High Bulletin Board
General Forums => The O' Club => Topic started by: NUKE on May 21, 2003, 11:11:02 PM
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A glimmer of morning sunlight made it's way through the shades , reflecting and refracting through the half-empty bottle of urine perched near his bedside, creating a multitude of colors that seemed to dance across the stench filled room. There would be no time however to revel in the moment, for Bishland was no more safe today than the day before and his vinyl flight jacket awaited him.
Having carefully removed the cathader, he slipped into his boots. Then, realizing he couldn't put his pants on, he removed the boots, put his pants then boots on in proper order, and pranced girlishly out the door.
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I'm confused and have developed a twitch in my right eyelid...
-SW
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(vinyl flight jacket -lol- thats good)
He stepped out into the brilliant sunshine and gawked at the dazzeling lens flare - until he realized it was actually the neighborhood kids throwing rocks at him.
He ignored the little bratlings. He tried to stride towards the nearby airfield with the dignity and pride befitting a squeakop.
The toilet paper stuck to his flight boot didn't help... and the townspeople he was supposed to be protecting didn't know whether to laugh or cry...
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Meanwhile, at the L4 point between Earth and the Moon, the alien mothership began to charge its main weapon. Tired of being bombarded with 50 years of inane television programming, the Zogoits decided to cleanse the electromagnetic spectrum of the drivel by destroying the source.
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Originally posted by Holden McGroin
LOL! I remember reading that joke. It was pretty good stuff.
Along that vein, here's my contribution:
He could feel the warm moistness on his lips, her last kiss before his departing. He brushed at his vinyl flight jacket and his hand came away with tufts of wool clinging to his skin, remnants of the previous night's ambitions with Nelly. He thought of her soulful eyes and full pouting lips that ended the long angular lines of her face. He could feel his heart skip a beat as he strode out to the N1K2 parked at the end of the ramp. He paused but a moment as he passed his beloved Spitfire Mk IX, its wingtips gleaming the morning dew, and he could see the blunt snout of his LA-7 as it protruded into the morning sunlight, the rest of the fuselage hiding in the shadows of the Tiger he had used to protect a vehicle base the day before. But this was no time to think of Nelly. He had a mission to complete.
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As he approached the fuselage of his beloved nik1, he wiped the dew off the 7359 painted just below the cockpit and thought lovingly of the 7358 nik1's that came before. Yes, today was a day for the nik1 for he was a knight of Bishlandia! Other pilots perfected skills of BCM and ACM to maneuver their way into having an advantage, or even to get on the tail of an enemy.
Not so for this jouster of the sky! Why learn such ignoble skills when the only true chivalrous way to fight was to look your opponent square in the eye, screaming toward each other at almost 600 kias combined, guns blazing in each others faces? Yes, those side and back shooters were cowards,their methods of killing the enemy utterly lacking in manliness. Face thine enemy or be judged a coward, the pilot thought to himself as he adjusted the garter holding up his stockings 'neath his spandex flight pants. He lithely climbed into the cockpit and began his preflight checklist. He pulled the trigger briefly and was satisfied to see 4 streams of tracers flying away from the nose in 4 different tangents, all the better for hitting those cowardly scum that would avoid his noble head on attacks!