By: Scratchy

return of the stranger...


    "We're better!"
    "No you're not!  We are!"
    "We just barely beat Richmond!"
    "Yeah, and how'd they do last round? <snicker>"

    Hawk and Dub stood face to face, their foul breath mixing just inches from
under their noses.  As I walked in, I thought for a second I had just
interrupted a lover's spat.  Until I saw the looks in their eyes.  In Dub's
eyes, I saw the craftiness of a big cat coming in for the kill.  In Hawk's
eyes, I saw pure hatred.  Now would be the perfect time for my entrance.

    "Hey guys, you two might want to stand back from each other before you kill
each other with your bad breath," I joked.  With that, they both turned their
evil stares at me.
    "Get lost Scratchy," muttered Hawk.  "This concerns real players, and you
definitely don't fall into that category."
    "Et tu, Hawk," I cried mockingly.  "You wound me with your words, like
daggers through my heart."
    Hawk turned his full attention towards me at this point, his full fury
aimed right at me.  Death blazed in his eyes, and I could see that he didn't
like me very much.  I almost cried. (hehe)
    "For someone who seems so good at dying, I'd keep your mouth
shu..AAAHHHH!!!"  His eyes widened, and a trickle of blood emerged from his
parched lips.  He fell to his knees, with a look of pure hatred on his face,
and collapsed into a puddle of his own blood, face down.  A six-inch dagger
stuck out from his back, with the initials WD on the hilt.
    "He was beginning to get boring!" defended Dub, a sly grin on his face.
With that, the two walked off into the wastelands, looking for other wasteland
scum to eradicate.

MORAL OF THE STORY: Don't trust Dallas.  We have nothing to lose and
                    everything to gain.  We don't care what anyone thinks of
                    us, and we have no honor.


Scratchy...

Save the Germites! And call the Funkadelic(214)881-7062 

