Caravan #5

30 Aug

Walther had had enough. His friend had taken a bullet so that these people could have food and supplies to keep on living, and Walther would drive his truck in to the rad belt before he’d let Freddie sit injured not twenty feet from help.

Walther strode back up to the receptionist’s desk, fury filling him right up to the eyeballs.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” Walther growled.

“I told you sir, there will be at least a two hour wait until your friend can see someone.”

“That may well be, ma’am, but I was just wondering if you enjoyed eating.”

“Excuse me?”

“Eating. Do you like to eat?”

“I guess so, why?”

Now, Walther wasn’t one to shout in anger. No, he was the sort who reserved volume for joy. Still, there was no one who could see and hear halfway that would have mistaken his steely tones for anything remotely like a positive emotion. “You see, ma’am, the boy you’re denying treatment to likes to eat as well. In fact, he likes it so much he works a dangerous job to be able to afford to do it regularly. And wouldn’t you know it, that job happens to be guarding the largest caravan in the Midwest – a job that happens to ensure that you get to eat as well.” Walther leaned in toward the receptionist, who looked as though she were trying to sink through her seat. “Now, seeing as he’s been seriously injured in doing that job, what do you say you get on that intercom, and get him some medical attention. Hmm?”

With that last word he leaned even farther forward. Far enough forward, in fact, that he noticed the receptionist frantically pushing a button under the desk. Crap.

Walther turned to face two men who each looked like a cross between a truck and a small herd of beef cattle.

“I don’t suppose either of you is a doctor?”

Music Monday #35 – The Set Up

29 Aug

It’s another Reel Big Fish Monday. So enjoy, Minions.

Photo Phriday #34 – Stormtroopin’

26 Aug

This one of three things:

  1. The spoils of victory from a very large Buick killing a normal sized stormtrooper.
  2. The spoils of victory from a normal sized Buick killing a very small stormtrooper.
  3. A revolutionary new device to keep your car from hitting anything.

Let’s Talk

24 Aug

We never talk anymore, Minions.

That’s maybe not true, but I thought it would be funny. Really, though, we’ve gone in to a bit of a comments drought. I know that my posts have had a bit of a spate of lateness, and that we’ve all been at this for more than half a year now, but I’d love to hear some feedback about the site. Tell me how you feel about Choose Your Tuesday, give me suggestions of things to write on Wednesday, suggest songs, whatever. (Honestly, if there were enough questions, I would just answer whatever crazy things you wanted to ask me all Wednesday, every Wednesday. The one post where I did that was a lot of fun.) I really like doing the blog, and its main value is as a tool for improving my writing, but I do enjoy the feedback.

See you in the comments.

Caravan #4

23 Aug

Freddie didn’t look so good. Still, the guy was pretty ugly on a good day, and Walther wasn’t a half bad medic. Plus, these people needed his help. There might be some raiders left, and if they saw the caravan’s guard move off, the rest of the rigs would be easy prey.

So Walther did the best he could. The rest of the drivers where uncharacteristically generous with their medical supplies. Everybody liked Freddie. (It didn’t hurt that he’d taken a hit while saving their rears, either.) The 36 hours it took to get to Duluth were torture. Fred was unconscious the whole way, and Walther more than once nearly hit another rig because he was tending to the big man.

The caravan pulled in to Duluth. The old city, up where the coast had been many, many years ago was now pretty much a parking lot, dotted here and there with the big bulges of hydrogen reclaimers. A swarm of laborers came out from the warehouses. Normally Walther stayed to make sure everything got unloaded properly so he got paid correctly, but not today. He had radioed ahead as soon as they where within range, and his buddy Gerald was waiting with a stretcher. It took both of them to hoist an unconscious Freddie on to the stretcher. Luckily the hospital was pretty close to the loading zone, but all the same, Fred wasn’t looking too great by the time they got there.

They entered the hospital waiting room to find chaos. The place was over booked and under staffed. A bleary eyed receptionist told Walther that there would be at least a two hour wait to see a doctor. He looked down at his unconscious friend. Freddie could be much worse off in two hours.

Music Monday #34 – Tank!

22 Aug

Do you ever wake up with a song in your head, and you haven’t heard that song in ages? This happens to me constantly. Today, it was this. Tank! is the theme song from Cowboy Bebop, the only anime I’ve ever watched all of. And the theme song is awesome. So, enjoy.

Photo Phriday #33 – Prehistory

19 Aug

Riverside, Iowa: Where most men have never gone before.