Zen21Tao
Member
It was a bright sunny day, not much different that a hundred other mornings. As I rounded the corner of Elm and Herbert my mind drifted off to thoughts of Sara, my beloved. In no time at all I was at my first stop. I opened the buses double doors to let the little rug rats in. As I drove off I glanced into the rear view mirror to confirm that all the kids were seated properly when I noticed something strange.
Eight years of advance tactical training in a certain military unit had honed my senses to a sharpness few human beings ever experience. It was this ultra perceptive attention to detail that allowed me to pick up on a minor change to little Johnny. The short stout 8 year old now had a shaved head and thick goatee. I knew right away this wasn’t the Johnny I picked up yesterday. As I glanced down I could see in the mirror writing on a letter he was reading. It certainly wasn’t English. My days working for the Agency behind the iron curtain confirmed to me it was definitely written in Russian. Then it dawned on me. Someone had replaced my first morning pick-up of school kids with a group of Russian mafia midgets.
I didn’t know their plans but what ever it was it couldn’t be good. There was no way I could let them make it to the next stop, let alone to the school. So I knew right away that I had to act quickly. Luckily my days as a college frat boy imparted on me a rare gift. I could summon rectal gas on command, today a fart would save my ass.
I held my stomach, made a loud moaning sound and brought forth a blast from my rear unlike any I had expelled before. Quickly I excused myself and proclaimed that I had to use a restroom. I pulled off the road next to a Krispy Kreme and proceeded to exit the bus. Once outside the bus I moved stealthily, like a ninja in a crowded mall, to the spare tire bay of the truck. A normal school bus driver would keep a spare tire there but not a trained operator like me. I retrieved a tactical duffle bag I had been storing for just such an occasion and made a move for a bench 20 meters away.
This move wasn’t without danger as one of the midget mobsters saw me and drew a bead on me with some type of small arm. As bullets began to fly at my feet I dove for the bench where I did a tactical roll retrieving from my bad the first weapon I could grab, my trusty HK USP. I spun around and two quick trigger pulls put a double tap into the pistol packing midget forehead. By this time remaining midgets had retrieved their hidden firearms, mostly AK47s and AK74s, and were making their way out of the bus. To lower the number of armed assailants I would have to face I drew an M203 from my tactical bag and sent a 40mm grenade through the bus window. As the bus went up in a ball of flaming little people, I noticed five armed shorties had made it past the blast area. They were heading for the nearby mall. I ran after them but they managed to make it into the mall before I could catch up to them. By the time I made it to the doors on the mall the small soldiers were lying motionless at the feet of mall security. I debriefed him of the bus situation and applauded his diligence in protecting his mall. We had coffee together then I called the dispatcher to let him know I would need another bus.
The End.
Eight years of advance tactical training in a certain military unit had honed my senses to a sharpness few human beings ever experience. It was this ultra perceptive attention to detail that allowed me to pick up on a minor change to little Johnny. The short stout 8 year old now had a shaved head and thick goatee. I knew right away this wasn’t the Johnny I picked up yesterday. As I glanced down I could see in the mirror writing on a letter he was reading. It certainly wasn’t English. My days working for the Agency behind the iron curtain confirmed to me it was definitely written in Russian. Then it dawned on me. Someone had replaced my first morning pick-up of school kids with a group of Russian mafia midgets.
I didn’t know their plans but what ever it was it couldn’t be good. There was no way I could let them make it to the next stop, let alone to the school. So I knew right away that I had to act quickly. Luckily my days as a college frat boy imparted on me a rare gift. I could summon rectal gas on command, today a fart would save my ass.
I held my stomach, made a loud moaning sound and brought forth a blast from my rear unlike any I had expelled before. Quickly I excused myself and proclaimed that I had to use a restroom. I pulled off the road next to a Krispy Kreme and proceeded to exit the bus. Once outside the bus I moved stealthily, like a ninja in a crowded mall, to the spare tire bay of the truck. A normal school bus driver would keep a spare tire there but not a trained operator like me. I retrieved a tactical duffle bag I had been storing for just such an occasion and made a move for a bench 20 meters away.
This move wasn’t without danger as one of the midget mobsters saw me and drew a bead on me with some type of small arm. As bullets began to fly at my feet I dove for the bench where I did a tactical roll retrieving from my bad the first weapon I could grab, my trusty HK USP. I spun around and two quick trigger pulls put a double tap into the pistol packing midget forehead. By this time remaining midgets had retrieved their hidden firearms, mostly AK47s and AK74s, and were making their way out of the bus. To lower the number of armed assailants I would have to face I drew an M203 from my tactical bag and sent a 40mm grenade through the bus window. As the bus went up in a ball of flaming little people, I noticed five armed shorties had made it past the blast area. They were heading for the nearby mall. I ran after them but they managed to make it into the mall before I could catch up to them. By the time I made it to the doors on the mall the small soldiers were lying motionless at the feet of mall security. I debriefed him of the bus situation and applauded his diligence in protecting his mall. We had coffee together then I called the dispatcher to let him know I would need another bus.
The End.
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