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Subject: SafetyMan™ vs. The Three Li'l Pigs rss

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Chris Tannhauser
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...he preferred stabbing things in the neck.
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Once upon a time, long after the Beast had allied the nations of the Earth against God and been subsequently smacked down for it, three li’l pigs wandered the godless, post-rapture landscape, seeking their fortune.

The first li’l pig, his senses addled by radiation sickness, built his house of old rubber truck tires and concrete.

The second li’l pig, fine but for an old bullet wound in his pork chop that ached when it rained blood, built his house of a blown combat-satellite control bunker.

But the third li’l pig, he knew which way the fallout blew, and built his house of pure animal cunning.

Sooner rather than later, one of the hideous bio-constructs unleashed during the last days of the war infiltrated the zone in which the three li’l pigs based their operations. His code-name was [REDACTED], but the terrible bio-construct was popularly known as SafetyMan, almost three meters of vatgrown anger woven around a foamed-titanium endoskeleton.

Fully activated, he hit the wire of the first li’l pig’s compound at a dead run. “LI’L PIG, LI’L PIG,” he screamed in the time it took him to close on the main building, “LET ME THE FUCK IN.”

The li’l pig, apoplectic at the speed with which the massive and angry intruder crossed the kill zone, could only manage a wheezy “Not by the hair of my—OH MY!” as SafetyMan, huffing & puffing, blew in his door with a fist-sized wad of plastique. The first li’l pig evaporated in the horizontal blizzard of concrete chunks, car fenders, and trophy-skull fragments.

SafetyMan cracked the lock on the li’l pig’s root cellar cache, finding it mostly stocked with truffles and pre-rapture porno mags. Bellowing his rage at the first li’l pig’s lack of foresight, SafetyMan shook his fists at the god-forsaken sky, expertly cursing politicians, false prophets and li’l pigs in general.

Days later, after filling his dufflebag to bulging with ammo found on corpses (some take out & some homemade), SafetyMan stumbled upon the cyclone fence perimeter of the second li’l pig’s bunker.

The second li’l pig, being generally more wily than other piglets, watched SafetyMan on a crappy li’l 5-inch black ‘n’ white securicam link. “Ahh,” snuffled the second li’l pig satisfactorily, “SafetyMan will of course try to come down the booby-trapped airshaft, as that is the most obvious thing to—sweet screaming Jesus!” For on the crappy li’l monitor, a black ‘n’ white mini-SafetyMan was reversing the direction on the shaped charges that would surely blow him loudly from the airshaft and into the fractured sky!

2Pig scrabbled at the safety interlock, flipped it up and jammed his paw down on the FIRE knob to make the charges bark their loud rune of destruction into SafetyMan’s face. And yet horribly, the charges huffed ‘n’ puffed a big-ass hole from the air exchange system into the central command room!

SafetyMan dropped from the hole, pivoting in the air like a cat to land on his feet, pivoting like a cat with a .50 Desert Eagle in each paw, pumping round after round into 2Pig’s leaky, and very surprised, biomass.

This pig’s cache was even less well stocked than the last one, what with the fungus being of the inedible ‘incidental’ type and the porn consisting almost entirely of the bad German stuff—all poop and gasmasks. SafetyMan set the bunker’s self-destruct mechanism and stomped off into the desert, framed dramatically by the resulting mushroom cloud.

Weeks later, after following a hundred-klick long trail of mummies on sticks, SafetyMan came to the fount of this misery—the third li’l pig’s target-hardened enclave.
3Pig watched as SafetyMan lumbered up to the vault-door of his presidential command center. He watched him from high up and far way, through the 20x scope of his 6.66mm Galil 144 ‘Smackdown’ bullpup sniper rifle. He clicked up to 50x, with thermal. SafetyMan was motionless, perhaps scanning for locking mechanisms, preparing to huff-n-puff, or smelling perhaps the stench of Hell already large in his nostrils, on this, the threshold of his death.

3Pig snickered quietly and laid the crosshairs over the place he supposed SafetyMan kept his brain. Using the ancient Buddhist techniques he had learned during his time torturing monks, 3Pig slowed his heart to math-test time, and ceased his breathing altogether—a secret the monks had referred to as ‘holding your breath.’

He thought briefly of bacon, and squeezed.

The gun kicked like a Chinatown whore and the bullet tore through the paper-mache SafetyMan as 3Pig yelped in surprise: ”What the—!” He wheeled just in time to see SafetyMan bury the Rambo knife in his pork belly, having crept up oh... so... quietly.

3Pig huffed and puffed, and blew it.

• • •

This pig, too, had nothing but porn and truffles. The very nature of their lack of foresight would have killed them all soon enough, even without the intervention of SafetyMan’s special mercies.

That night, defined by darkness, lit by flames, SafetyMan stripped the flesh from 3Pig’s bones with nothing more than his self-sufficient fists. Once cooked, 3Pig’s uncoiled mortal coil moved SafetyMan to utter a single word, a word of praise, a word that summed up 3Pig’s small life into a fitting epitaph:

“Tasty.”
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Andrew Goenner
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wow...I don't even know what to say to that, man. Good read!
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"that's a smith and wesson, and you've had your six"
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Wait? What?...



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Mark Casiglio
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Falcon 2018 September 28, 29, 30 in Stamford, CT
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You are a very gifted and twisted person. You are truly wasting your talents here. So thanks!!
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Sounded like a twisted "Heavy Metal" magazine story, complete with Axl Roze sporting an American flag spandex shorts, some sort of weird Ice-T kangaroo mutant.
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Steven Heinrich
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You should continue to work on that and submit it for Nanowrimo ( National Novel Writing Month)!!!

http://www.boardgamegeek.com/guild/589

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Boo
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Wow. Great stuff, truly twisted. Reminds me of playing AlphaOmega RPG.
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Erik D
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heinrichsteven wrote:
You should continue to work on that and submit it for Nanowrimo ( National Novel Writing Month)!!!

http://www.boardgamegeek.com/guild/589



He would have a LONG way to go.
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Chris Tannhauser
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She liked farming...
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...he preferred stabbing things in the neck.
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erak wrote:
heinrichsteven wrote:
You should continue to work on that and submit it for Nanowrimo ( National Novel Writing Month)!!!

http://www.boardgamegeek.com/guild/589



He would have a LONG way to go.

I think it would make for a sickening read -- kinda like riding a rollercoaster a thousand times in a row...

Thanks for the kind words, everyone!
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JessA
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That's MRS. McFoxFace to you!
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Hivegod, your awesomeness is a force to be reckoned with.
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Kunnagh Scott
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That quite cheered up my lunchtime! Now I have some great mental images to take into the two-hour meeting that is most of the remainder of my Friday afternoon.

Thanks HG! If I were one of you colonial types I would no doubt also be describing this as 'awesome'.
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