I'll come up with something in a minute.

The War

They said you can’t make someone pay, not for genocide. They said that, but we proved them wrong. We were dedicated, we had friends, we were exactly the sort that he wasn’t expecting. We found him, in that villa where he thought he’d be safe. He never reckoned his assistant Max would betray him.

The night had been warm, wet and extremely stormy. It was a bad night for him, but a perfect night for us. We came in through every window, down every fireplace and through every door. We chased him out into the fields, hunted him down with his own dogs, killed all his henchmen as we went along. A glorious and terrible night, a night of perfect vengeance.

When we found him, we sliced his legs off, batter dipped them and then deep fried them in oil. I even made him eat part of his own foot, just to prove the point, before I put a hollow point in his head myself. Then we burned the place down, and watched as the flame exploded into the night despite the storm. A night of perfect vengeance, a night my brothers and I, with our brothers in arms would never forget.

We can rest now, no one will ever try to get to the bottom of this killing. While it wasn’t officially sanctioned, the right people knew what we were going to do and let us get away with it. Justice was served in a way that no official channel could ever manage.

So rest in peace Doc Hopper, the frogs have returned the favor, and we’ve taken back our legs.

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July 30, 2010 - Posted by | Fiction | ,

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