It started innocently

[Nervous God]

I do like the cast idea, however I think Jacki Chan is too young to play the general, need someone who looks frankly like Samak, the ex PM, a Fatter, more sinister roll.

[Pom Michael]

"a Fatter"

 

I'm in! What's the pay?

[Flashermac]

 

 

More like this guy?

 

 

 

[Pom Michael]

Yes!

 

But damn! The second girl from the left! She is probably 60 by now - but wow - in her day she was beautiful!

 

 

[Nervous God]

EXACTLY!

[Old Hippie]

I'd still hit it!

[Nervous God]

The fat guy? FARK - Ramone was right!

[Old Hippie]

No, I meant the old broad...you and your homo fantasies should get together with Acockasian and his and have a party...normally, that comment would be gay, but as I made it, it of course is not...

[acockasian]

Shit! One single post about Afghan dancing boys paid for out of The War On Terror budget and I am labeled for life.

[panadolsandwich]

The key to escaping the General’s security detail was always Torn; her oppressive father had always dominated her of course and in a way inalienable to any of my western thoughts, he terrorized her since she was his only child and crucially not a son; but in a strange way he doted on her as well. He indulged in what I would consider strange whims, like buying her a high powered fully optioned M3 BMW sports car for her 16th Birthday even though she couldn’t have ever obtained a legal license to drive. I now know that it was most likely a show of power.

It was the 9mm that Torn had slipped me after the pat down from the police in the hotel, and the Army Officer that she had led on over a series of weeks, that allowed me to slip the security cordon whilst she pretended to seduce him. She’d asked me to shoot the General, her flesh and blood, and his insults ringing in my ears I gave it some thought whilst standing over his sleeping form when Torn called out – at the last minute she’d opted out and my hand wavered by mere millimeters to miss his head.

The General awoke to the chaos yelling blue murder grabbing for the pistol – I easily put him back to sleep with a backslap to his temple with the butt of the pistol, and Torn led me through a kind of secret passage from the General’s Quarters and threw the keys to the M3 at me. The M3 was there, like a panther laying in wait. For some reason the way was clear, the automatic rolla door, the gates to the mansion – Torn had planned it all.

Within seconds we were travelling at immense speed with the sound of hell raising falling behind us. I couldn’t believe that they would shoot at the General’s Daughter, and in fact it sounded like the shots were confined in the house. I dare not speculate on whom may have been shot that night, but the Army Officer was the most likely victim. The General would no doubt mobilize his regiments and his influence and all Torn was wearing was a very thin gauze nighty slip that hid nothing. I threw the M3 in to top gear and plotted the next step; the thin whine of a high powered motorbike appeared to get louder, I accelerated viciously around the corner, threw the 9mm at Torn and asked her to reload…