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A Collection of Thoughts and Musing
The Perfect Pour
“…the rapid flickering of the fluorescent lights is distracting,
but not enough so to make him pull his eyes away from the object of
his focus. Grasping the bottle firmly, Supreme Leader contemplates his
predicament - this pour must be precise. He is well aware that the all-too-familiar
sensation creeping slowly into the depths of his mind will soon overpower
his sense of reasoning, reduce his motor skills to that of a 3 year
old child and cloud his decision making skills. A bead of sweat slowly
rolls down his brow as he surveys the tasting table…4 more bottles
to go. With a steady hand, he slowly tips the bottle and pours the dark
liquid into his glass. At the precise moment, and with cat-like reflexes,
he twists the bottle and jerks it vertical - a perfect pour.
With a smug smile, and a well deserved sense of accomplishment, Supreme
Leader leans against the counter and swirls his wine. Scanning the room
and reading the various expressions of his counterparts, he realizes
his purpose is clear. For the time has come to make them pay –
make them all pay – for the outrage, embarrassment and humiliation
of these past few painful months. He knows he must claim victory –
at any cost. Supreme Leader is here to crush his opponents, to regain
the right to his title – he is here to WIN
Movie Club…”
-Juice 2007
Return to Casa De O’Brien V
3 explosions flashed rapidly in succession – instantly blinding
his sight as the concussion from the blasts threw him to the ground.
With a muffled groan, Paragus shrugged off the dirt thrown on him from
the impact and waited for his night-vision to return. A wry smile cracked
across his grizzled face as he discovered his legs were still attached.
Trying to run across the shallow creek into the clearing had almost
been a fatal mistake, but the second deafening barrage of shells was
falling behind him now…he was getting close; and the enemy had
failed to pin-point his position. Rolling into a depression in the meadow,
careful to keep his weapon clear of debris, Paragus continued his relentless
crawling advance toward his objective. He could just make out the ancient
battlements now – bright flashes revealing the grey, worn, familiar
stone. Victory was close at hand…
As he crawled through the dirt and muck toward his goal, he used his
last few precious moments to review his orders – orders whispered
to him from the dying lips of some poor wasted neophyte messenger who
had been blown in half by an exploding cannon shell – “Retake
the Citadel, at all costs”. As he slowly closed the remaining
distance to the ancient castle, his thoughts returned repeatedly to
the morbid image of that neophyte messenger…damn kid hadn’t
even been around long enough to be named.
He was on his feet now, alert, back pressed against the ivy covered
walls...listening, looking… The enemy had failed to post a patrol
– their arrogance infuriated and elated him at the same time…this
would be easier than he thought. For he was something they would never
expect – a lone Brother, lightly armed, striking them at their
weakest point…clearing the way for the final assault. Slinging
his rifle across his shoulder he quietly drew his knife, twisting it
in his hand…feeling the weight. He recalled that the wicked weapon
had been a gift from Brother Juice, so long ago…back when the
Citadel was in their control. Well, he thought grimly, those days would
soon come again.
Ducking low he moved quickly, quietly, to the old southern gate –
popping the hinges off with his knife. Inside now…the dimly lit
passages were familiar to him, he wasted no time in making his way to
the second level – constantly in the background the “thump-thump-thump”
of the artillery cannons leading him on. The first guard he encountered
went down easily. Sliding up behind the enemy – asleep at his
post despite the constant barrage outside – Paragus ripped the
usurper’s hair back with a quick jerking motion and opened his
throat with his blade. They were nothing to him…inhuman…all
too easy. Paragus had to move quicker through the hallways than he would
prefer, the second guard had half a second to react…to reach for
his weapon. Grabbing the enemy’s wrist and swinging up his knee,
Paragus snapped the guards elbow. One swift stab to the back of the
neck with his knife, severing the guard’s spinal cord…Paragus
never missed a beat….it was all too easy.
He could hear the mechanical sounds of the cannons being reloaded now,
the shouts of the operators. Peering through the cracked door leading
to the roof, his objective filled his sights…3 cannons –
2 left, 1 right…2 operators per gun…there was no chance
left for stealth now. He sheathed his beloved knife and unslung his
rifle; the other guards in the Citadel would hear his assault…come
for him, he would have to be quick – take them all in one burst.
He waited for them to reload, smiling in anticipation.
The first gun fired, “THUMP!”…and Paragus unleashed
hell upon his prey. Kicking open the door he dropped to one knee, firing…sweeping
the fully-automatic rifle from left to right, the rain of lead decimating
his enemy, “tack-tack-tack-tack”, taking the operators out
as their guns fired…”THUMP, tack-tack-tack-tack, THUMP,
tack-tack-tack-tack”. It was over in a few seconds, the guns were
silent…his enemy lay dead or dying…Victory was achieved.
Paragus only hesitated a second; he unraveled the O’Brien Standard
– the symbol of Movie Club – his order’s ancient symbol
of honor, flown from these ramparts long before the usurper’s
deception. Emotion welled up inside him for the first time in years,
overwhelming him; he had waited for this moment too long. The sun was
rising; tears were in his eyes as he raised the flag over the ramparts.
An emotional cry was raised from across the meadow, behind the creek
– his Brothers had seen the Standard flying atop the Citadel.
The cry grew to a roar as his Brothers charged across the creek, onto
the meadow – there were no cannons to stop them now, nothing could
stop them now.
An overwhelming feeling of peace and calm enveloped Paragus. He had
achieved Victory, had retaken the Citadel – Casa De O’Brien
V was once again their’s. And as the bullets ripped through his
back and out the front of his chest, spraying red mist out over the
ramparts, he felt no pain, no sense of loss; nothing could destroy his
elation, he had completed his purpose in this life and there could be
no sadness in his eyes. He fell to his knees, hanging over the ramparts,
staring at his Brothers streaming home – his life streaming out
of the holes in his chest.
He slumped to the ground – the O’Brien Standard filled his
eyes – tears of joy rolled down his cheeks. His vision fading,
his eyes fell on the last image he would see…that of Brother Follicle,
ripping out the throat of the guard who had taken his life. Paragus’
soaring joy knew no bounds… It was all too easy…
-Juice 2008
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