WARHELL.TXT (Man/Animal/Machine)

War Is Hell - Unless you are a Zucker Brother :>
By SwampRat
(cl) 1998 Gay Furry Association

Based on a Weird Dream - With added material because it was too much fun to
pass up. See how many references you can get.. 

    =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Sitting in a field is a pit bull, with a large black patch covering one eye -
Literally. He sits, looking at a bunch of children running and yelling while
tinny music plays. As they call to him he look up at a sign and shakes his
head. The sign says, 'Danger - Mines.' On the other side of the field is a hut,
and as the dog puts his paws over his head, there is the sound of screams and
explosions. Suddenly the tinny music stops, as a needle is dragged off a
record. The hut door opens and a man in tattered rags with a long beard emerges
to shake his fist and yell, "Stay out of my Minefield!" Then goes back inside.
A moment later the hut explodes.

                             * * * *

In a room full of military types, everyone is busy, including a German Shepard,
who has 3 chevrons shaved into his fur, cocking his leg on a desk. Someone is
moaning, "Oh Laddie! Oh Laddie! Oh Laddie!" and a collie barks. The Shepherd
growls then pads over to someone who is standing and jumps up, humping his leg.
The standing one seems not to notice, reading something. A pair of eagles ride
his shoulders.. Until a handler comes by with a pair of thick gloves. "Thanks
for looking after them Col." The 2 birds rub their beaks against the man's face
for a moment then allow themselves to be coaxed off. "Anytime," The man
rumbles, oblivous to the dents in his shirt - Not even Eagle claws could rip
That material. 

By this time the dog has finished and is nuzzling the man's leg adoringly.
"Rock, How many times have I told you to wait until After Work.." The Shepherd
looks up with almost worship in it's brown eyes. "Dyke!" Comes a rumble from
the front of the office. The dog shoves his tail between his legs and hides
under the desk - as do many Leutenants. The man takes a tissue and cleans his
simonized unifirm then freshens his make-up. He walks up to an office, where
the words 'General BallBuster' are etched in the glass. A knock then he stands
inside, stiff as the drink in the General's hand. "You called, Sir?" An aide
stood to one side, and at the old man's nod, saluted and walked to the door.
Before he opened it he whispered, "Dinner at 6 Sir? I have the Little Red
Outfit back from the cleaners." The Col. nodded and patted the Aide on the
rear, who then stepped outside and along with most of the staff put their ear
to the door.

The General was busy looking over some papers, missing the exchange completely, 
and waived to the Col. to take a seat. "New orders. Friday at 0800 you are to
report to Marshall, where you are going to be flown to Barsoomia. The 'Little
Green Men' want an Observer for whatever the latest bruhaha is going on This
month." He handed over a packet and drained his Whisky. "Oh - Can you get me 3
more passes to Henry's? My wife wants to bring a couple of friends. She enjoys
line-dancing at the Wild Horse then drinks at Henry's with her Female Friends
before coming home. The outings always seem to refresh her, and with my feet, I
can't go myself." The Colonel nodded. "Most certainly Sir. I can even escort
her there myself if you like." The old man nodded. "Good. Good. We could use
more men like you. Dismissed."

Everyone scrambled for seats as the door opened, including all 4 'canine
companions' who look out of place sitting at desks, paws on keyboards. The
man walked to his desk, put the packet in his pocket and continued working.
After a moment, so did everyone else, Raising the sound levels by quite a few
decibels.

                             * * * *

There is a rendezvous going on between the forces, when the Col. arrives. An
aide to the president makes the introductions. "Col. Butch Dyke, This is
President President." The men stare at the Col. for a moment. He shrugs. "I was
adopted." They nod and say "Oh." A moment later a currier comes in. Envilope
for Col. Dyke." Dyke nods. "C.O.D. $3 please." They all mutter and scrounge for
change for a moment. "Very good sir. Please sign here -" He drops his pants and
bends over a little. "Who should I make it to?" The curier grins. "Make it to
Sidney, With Love." The Col. nods and takes a marker, writes on the man's butt,
" 'To Sidney, With Love. Col. Butch 'Bull' Dyke.' How's that?" The currier
looks over his shoulder. "Could you pat it to see if it is dry, Sir?" The Col
shakes his head, then pats the currier's rear, and nods. Another man steps
over. "I don't know.. Let me check." He gropes the man. "Hmmm... Minister -
What do you think?" The Minister walks over and gropes the currier as well,
then Swats his rear firmly. "Seems to be ok."

"Oh Thank You Sirs." The currier gushes, pulling his pants up, and slips them a
card with the logo of the 'Blue Oyster' on it, then leaves. The Col. looks at
it. "What the heck is a 'Blue Oyster'?" President President says, "It's a Gay
Bar downtown.." Everyone turns and looks at him. "Or so I have heard..." He
clears his throat. "To Business gentlemen. The envilope Col." He waits a
moment, "And the winning plan is..." Drumroll from offstage. He opens the
envilope and looks at it a moment. "Plan A!" They all cheer, then sit down, and
discuss battle plans, best places to pick up chicks and who is going to win the
pendant this year. "Then it is settled. We will meet.." He turns to a board so
full of diagrams, arrows, and slashes, it is impossable to make out anything.
"Ummmm..." A fly comes in, lands on the map.. and is smashed by the President
with a rolled-up copy of Plan A. ".. Here" 

As they are leaving the Col. Rams his head into a steel post, and grunts. The
others Look at him. "For luck." he says, then punches it lightly. "Good Old
American Steel." He leaves and the others follow muttering. A few moments later
the post collapses, and the celing caves in.

As they enter the Limo's a large man with sunglasses holding the door says,
"Dinner at 6, Sir? I will have the Wolf costume ready.." The Col. nods and pats
him on the butt then enters the limo. The man smiles widely until the Limo
takes off, then he grimaces and slowly reaches down to grab his foot and hops
up and down, yelling.

                             * * * *

The army meets on a hillside, transferring supplies to trucks. As they are
doing this, bullets start wizzing around them. Nobody pays any attention,
continuing to load the vehicles. The Col looks puzzled. "What are you not
shooting back?" A sergant stops for a moment, holding onto a crate that says,
'Medicine.' "Why should we? They are such bad shots we don't bother about
them." A stray bullet hits the crate and something breaks. "Damn them!" The
sergant opens the crate and pulls out a broken bottle. "Ish Kapan.. 30 years
old." The Col. growls.. "Soldier," He snaps at a passerby, "I want a box of
Poppers, and a Screwdown.. Now!" The soldier stops, then turns muttering
something about Butch Colonels and rummages in the back of a truck. The box of
'Popper' rockets is put on a screwdown stand that includes a bicycle seat and
spotter scope, then hooks wires to a dildo, and lays it in it's holder, which
looks like a pair of butt-cheeks. 

The Sergant grins. "Don't worry about using all 12, We have plenty. Bought them
on sale at Missles-R-Us." The Col. nods and mounts the seat roughly, causing it
to squeak and some of the men to sigh. A first look shows vast hordes of men on
horses, pounding over desert sand. He shakes his head and looks again. Dozens
of sealions frolic in the surf. Again he shakes his head and looks through the
tube. The chorus line of the All-Male Review at Henry's Nude bar appear, making
the Col. think of home for a moment. Then something catches his eye.. A shiny
square building, with a huge garish sign in front. It takes but a moment to
send a missle flying out to hit it's target dead center - a Rib joint which
boasted of the 'Finest pork you ever Tasted.'When the dust settled all that was
left was a scorched man in a scorched chef's hat, which tilts to one side.
"That's the Last time I let an Anny Mae Bean fart after lighting the fires." 

All the others stood there, loking shocked. "Why the hell did you do that for?"
The Col. look pleased. "They had Pork there." No one else did. "Yes?" The
Col.'s grin fades. "And pork is forbidden by Muslem Law.." A groan as the
soldiers hit their heads. "We are Not Muslems.." The Col. nods. "Oh. Sorry
about that." A man in the back raises his hand - "I am a Muslem." The entire
army shoots him. "Anything else in sight?"

Swinging the viewfinder he sees a man giving him the 'Finger' with both hands,
thrusting out his crotch and grabbing it then turns, bending over and makes
'butt-talk'. "I believe so.." A moment later a missle Whooshes from it's tube.
The eyes of man looking between his legs get Wide.. The he jumps up and runs
left. The missle follows. Then right.. The missle still tracks almost nudging
his shorts. Finally The man jumps off the hill and the missle waits as he
tumbles down to lay with his butt sticking in the air, moaning. The missle
turns, salutes the Col. with a fin and then as the sound of a lush love-song
plays, dives down the hill. A moment later there is a long protracted shreak,
and the Col. gets up. "That should stop them." 

The entire army falls on the ground laughing as he turns, a perfect black ring
surrounding his eye. He shrugs and pats the box. "Good Old Americal Know-how."
As he walks away, the box tips over and rolls down the hill, falling apart
until it hits bottom, where it explodes, leaving a small mushroom cloud. The
other scramble for the trucks and cars and leave quickly.

A little while later the soldier appears, with his uniform in tatters. He waves
a fist at the retreating convoy, the other hand rubbing his rear. "You haven't
beaten me yet!" Then hears a noise behind him. "Oh No.." The missle appears and
hovers, a cigarette attached to it's cone. A machine voice says, "That. Was.
Real. Good. Cookie. I. Think. We. Have. Time. For. Another. Round." The man
screams, turns and jumps back over the hill again. The missle ejects the
cigarette, and twirls around. "I. Love. It. When. You. Play. Hard. To. Get." As
the lush music again fills the air it turns and dives, disappearing over the
hill again, followed shortly after by a shreak.

                             * * * *

This is as far as my dream got, someone standing on a hill, jumping up and
down. 

Send ideas, comments and additions to ahfrl@inreach.com 

This IS a Satire, so be as mean, nasty and rude as you want :>