Kieran McConville
ONE love, blood, life
I'mma let you finish...
All of Alan Jamison's 'stories' 'here', guys
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Mrs. Garrison
Rock n' Roll Doggie ALL ACCESS
The last of the Generals
Once upon a time i was a kid holding the puzzle pieces to the war machine in my cargo pockets, just another soldier in the army fighting a never ending war against a large unseen enemy. Try not to understand these things, just go with the flow. You can pass on it and you can pass it to the left but you cannot take a hit.
We had this guy who was destined for star(s), a tall and sharp man with an eagle on his collar, slim and trim, flat and shiny, and not a speck of gray in his dark and neatly groomed hair. He always made an appearance everywhere he went and his presence was well known by all. Stories about this man, our commander, were often somewhere between he could bend steel with his bare hands to he aligned the stars to his liking.
One story in particular took place when he was taking a helicopter ride from his home base to the base where he would catch a hop to D.C. later on that evening. During the flight he was handwriting a speech he was to give to the Joint Chiefs at the pentagon the next day. Somewhere along the way the helicopter experienced a problem and had to crash land in a field. He continued writing the speech in the banged up chopper to the dismay of the crew while they waited on a rescue team to arrive. After that, he was able to board his flight to the Pentagon at which time he bothered to write an accident report about his crash on the previous flight, once his pentagon speech was completed to his liking.
This all happened twenty years ago, back when times were much simpler and we were all much closer to our own takeoff than our landing. In the skies we might dream up a clue if we caught the shadow of a passing cloud at the right moment.
Present day i learned that this great leader from back then has passed away, not even recently, but suddenly. Seems he left us back then to go to D.C. and serve out the rest of his career, though once destined for greatness he did not ever make his star(s). He did stumble upon some grave secrets though.
I looked at my notes staring up at me from the giant conference table in hopes to bolster my confidence in this cold room. The quiet whispers around the room from an impressive collection of brass was enough to intimidate the best of us. Highly decorated uniforms told the many tales of conflict and negotiations and treaties that hopefully our children will be able to read about someday before history is changed by the creators of false narratives.
The group of us sat patiently waiting for the main event, in a briefing room in an underground patio where the dead vote themselves kings and the living still believe in nothing and no-one, and the old fallacy that it could never happen here - not now, not ever.
Feeling like the shy kid in the locker room who was on the losing end of a game of grab ass, i was probably sweating in my uniform more than a guy should have been. I'm no longer that kid but these guys were likely to grab my ass and hand it back to me, as they often did.
Abruptly a set of doors slid open and all of the brass jumped up to their feet and stood in stone, erect for the Queen, as her aides entered the room, taking their places at the solid table, announcing her imminent presence. Cue the flash and the bang, as the apocalypse in a pantsuit herself enters the room followed by more of her handlers, and takes her place at the royal throne at the head of the table. We all remain standing as she takes her time to look us over, one by one.
We were told in the pre-brief to not make eye contact with her majesty unless we were answering a direct question, and also, do not under any circumstances speak out of turn or speak unless directed to. This sounded easy enough, but somehow since this was my first time in here i could not help but sneak a glance at our monarch.
Her eyebrows were like battle symbols, arrows painted on the middle of her face, just above her long eyelashes that served as sutures over the crop circles in her eyes, the soul-less black orbs that devoured anything in their path. Between her pursed lips were fangs and a forked tongue, hissing occasionally.
She began the briefing by asking a Top General the status on a current military operation in some far away land that the press had just given a bunch of negative reports on. The General gave her the answers she presumably would have liked to hear, which should have been enough. But then he did something a bit out of the ordinary even for him, in rather blunt fashion he suggested that someone in her Majesty's position should have been able to influence the obvious unfair reporting of the media.
All eyes turned to the General, who perhaps just realized what he had done, and began to break out in a cold sweat. Her Majesty stared at him for a few terrible moments without saying a word, you could have heard a pin drop in this climate controlled bunker.
Then she began to laugh, in fact she began to cackle, long and shrill, holding her hands together in front of her like a prayer looking for it's messiah. The top brass exchanged nervous glances at first but then as the cackling grew louder, they all decided it was okay to laugh, despite the fear behind the crack in the clouds.
Suddenly she stopped laughing and clasped her hands together with some might. Her facial expression had changed from pale white to rosy inferno, her eyes red with rage, the lines in her cheeks cut so deep blood was expected. She opened her mouth wide, so wide until a dark matter emerged in a stream of serpents and winged creatures filling up the dark room. Their eyes glowed with fire and their bodies covered in sulfur and ash. They soared around the room above us in a hellish roar like a massive volcanic eruption.
Everyone was fixed on this supernatural occurrence above until the lights in the bunker, flickering at first, went completely dark. That is when the smell of sulfur and inferno, charred burning flesh, and damnation overcame me and i may have lost consciousness momentarily.
Suddenly i came to, to a well lit room which smelled and looked like a war zone, all of the Generals seated around me were burned beyond recognition. Even the executive chairs which held their smoldering corpses were burned down to their frames. The fire alarm on the wall blinked occasionally but none of the sprinklers let so much as a drop down on the smoking remains below.
The Queen stood up from her throne as her aides helped tuck a reptilian appendage under the back of her pantsuit. She looked at me and spoke the words i didn't really want or need to hear, "You're in Command now, GENERAL." With that the Queen turned quickly and exited through sliding doors followed by all but one of her aides and handlers.
The one remaining aide handed me a suitcase and congratulated me on my promotion, before he turned and ran out of the room to catch up with her Majesty. I stared at the briefcase for a few seconds when the sound of alarms went off in the bunker and water began spraying from the jets above.
Once upon a time i was a kid holding the puzzle pieces to the war machine in my cargo pockets, just another soldier in the army fighting a never ending war against a large unseen enemy. Try not to understand these things, just go with the flow. You can pass on it and you can pass it to the left but you cannot take a hit.
We had this guy who was destined for star(s), a tall and sharp man with an eagle on his collar, slim and trim, flat and shiny, and not a speck of gray in his dark and neatly groomed hair. He always made an appearance everywhere he went and his presence was well known by all. Stories about this man, our commander, were often somewhere between he could bend steel with his bare hands to he aligned the stars to his liking.
One story in particular took place when he was taking a helicopter ride from his home base to the base where he would catch a hop to D.C. later on that evening. During the flight he was handwriting a speech he was to give to the Joint Chiefs at the pentagon the next day. Somewhere along the way the helicopter experienced a problem and had to crash land in a field. He continued writing the speech in the banged up chopper to the dismay of the crew while they waited on a rescue team to arrive. After that, he was able to board his flight to the Pentagon at which time he bothered to write an accident report about his crash on the previous flight, once his pentagon speech was completed to his liking.
This all happened twenty years ago, back when times were much simpler and we were all much closer to our own takeoff than our landing. In the skies we might dream up a clue if we caught the shadow of a passing cloud at the right moment.
Present day i learned that this great leader from back then has passed away, not even recently, but suddenly. Seems he left us back then to go to D.C. and serve out the rest of his career, though once destined for greatness he did not ever make his star(s). He did stumble upon some grave secrets though.
I looked at my notes staring up at me from the giant conference table in hopes to bolster my confidence in this cold room. The quiet whispers around the room from an impressive collection of brass was enough to intimidate the best of us. Highly decorated uniforms told the many tales of conflict and negotiations and treaties that hopefully our children will be able to read about someday before history is changed by the creators of false narratives.
The group of us sat patiently waiting for the main event, in a briefing room in an underground patio where the dead vote themselves kings and the living still believe in nothing and no-one, and the old fallacy that it could never happen here - not now, not ever.
Feeling like the shy kid in the locker room who was on the losing end of a game of grab ass, i was probably sweating in my uniform more than a guy should have been. I'm no longer that kid but these guys were likely to grab my ass and hand it back to me, as they often did.
Abruptly a set of doors slid open and all of the brass jumped up to their feet and stood in stone, erect for the Queen, as her aides entered the room, taking their places at the solid table, announcing her imminent presence. Cue the flash and the bang, as the apocalypse in a pantsuit herself enters the room followed by more of her handlers, and takes her place at the royal throne at the head of the table. We all remain standing as she takes her time to look us over, one by one.
We were told in the pre-brief to not make eye contact with her majesty unless we were answering a direct question, and also, do not under any circumstances speak out of turn or speak unless directed to. This sounded easy enough, but somehow since this was my first time in here i could not help but sneak a glance at our monarch.
Her eyebrows were like battle symbols, arrows painted on the middle of her face, just above her long eyelashes that served as sutures over the crop circles in her eyes, the soul-less black orbs that devoured anything in their path. Between her pursed lips were fangs and a forked tongue, hissing occasionally.
She began the briefing by asking a Top General the status on a current military operation in some far away land that the press had just given a bunch of negative reports on. The General gave her the answers she presumably would have liked to hear, which should have been enough. But then he did something a bit out of the ordinary even for him, in rather blunt fashion he suggested that someone in her Majesty's position should have been able to influence the obvious unfair reporting of the media.
All eyes turned to the General, who perhaps just realized what he had done, and began to break out in a cold sweat. Her Majesty stared at him for a few terrible moments without saying a word, you could have heard a pin drop in this climate controlled bunker.
Then she began to laugh, in fact she began to cackle, long and shrill, holding her hands together in front of her like a prayer looking for it's messiah. The top brass exchanged nervous glances at first but then as the cackling grew louder, they all decided it was okay to laugh, despite the fear behind the crack in the clouds.
Suddenly she stopped laughing and clasped her hands together with some might. Her facial expression had changed from pale white to rosy inferno, her eyes red with rage, the lines in her cheeks cut so deep blood was expected. She opened her mouth wide, so wide until a dark matter emerged in a stream of serpents and winged creatures filling up the dark room. Their eyes glowed with fire and their bodies covered in sulfur and ash. They soared around the room above us in a hellish roar like a massive volcanic eruption.
Everyone was fixed on this supernatural occurrence above until the lights in the bunker, flickering at first, went completely dark. That is when the smell of sulfur and inferno, charred burning flesh, and damnation overcame me and i may have lost consciousness momentarily.
Suddenly i came to, to a well lit room which smelled and looked like a war zone, all of the Generals seated around me were burned beyond recognition. Even the executive chairs which held their smoldering corpses were burned down to their frames. The fire alarm on the wall blinked occasionally but none of the sprinklers let so much as a drop down on the smoking remains below.
The Queen stood up from her throne as her aides helped tuck a reptilian appendage under the back of her pantsuit. She looked at me and spoke the words i didn't really want or need to hear, "You're in Command now, GENERAL." With that the Queen turned quickly and exited through sliding doors followed by all but one of her aides and handlers.
The one remaining aide handed me a suitcase and congratulated me on my promotion, before he turned and ran out of the room to catch up with her Majesty. I stared at the briefcase for a few seconds when the sound of alarms went off in the bunker and water began spraying from the jets above.
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OP
OP
Kieran McConville
ONE love, blood, life
This is definitely one of Alan Jamison's more unexpected stories!
Mrs. Garrison
Rock n' Roll Doggie ALL ACCESS
He hasn't really been the same since the whole rat poison in the salad incident.
OP
OP
Kieran McConville
ONE love, blood, life
He hasn't ever been the same, especially not since the incident with the pet panther at Nigel Downing's LA pad.
Mrs. Garrison
Rock n' Roll Doggie ALL ACCESS
One would think (hope) that a person with a pet panther would have a much higher kill list...fucking amatures
OP
OP
Kieran McConville
ONE love, blood, life
"What is this, armature hour?" Nigel Downing hoots as the Chinese kid in his kitchen lets off another firecracker and the Best of The 80s playlist segues into 'Jesse's Girl'.
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