Post apocalyptic forum novel

bodhibodhi Frets: 1021
Some years ago I tried to "design" a post apocalyptic gun shop advert to print on a t-shirt (which never happened) and came up with this version of it, which I've just discovered on an old pc backup.

This might be a silly idea, but how about we try and write a story line to go with it?  Kinda like a collaborative novel of sorts.  Would be interesting to see what happens, if anything.

But never mind if it's a stupid idea!

Rules of the game:  None.


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  • ShrewsShrews Frets: 385
    Young Kyle stood transfixed as he spotted the MKIII Fahkablasta's in the window  of Muffy Van Zandt and Sons.  He'd heard of these masterful weapons, seen them in the movies, their power, their control, their downright fear-inducing preciseness. But if he walked through the rather odd-shaped door of Van Zandt's he would be within a few steps of actually being able to touch one.
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  • stevebrumstevebrum Frets: 4570
    edited January 12
    Gazing through the broken window Kyle’s eyes set upon the old and rather hairsuite Muffy Van Zandt - a mountain of a man who struck fear in the whole town, he was sat in a dark corner of the dusty shop polishing his weapon; the latest issue of Reader’s Rayguns magazine casually left open to his side.

    Muffy never left the shop, there was no Mrs Van Zandt and there were no Sons. The local children all knew that Muffy was a cannibal and had eaten them.
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  • mbembe Frets: 838
    Just then a screech of car brakes outside as a pink dune buggy pulled up against the sidewalk. Kyle used the opportunity to gaze away from the decrepit shop and saw a fulsome broad with long flowing blonde hair in the driver's seat of the dune buggy. Kyle was instantly smitten by her winsome looks.
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  • bodhibodhi Frets: 1021
    edited January 12
    Suddenly, Muffy got up and left the room through the back.

    Kyle put the hot girl out of his mind for a second.  Today's gonna be business and not pleasure.

    The door creaked ominously on its hinges as Kyle eased it open.

    The shop was now empty save for Joffel - Muffy's long lost son who had been conceived by an unknown mother (so the story went until later today).  He was slouched backwards on the glass counter.  Squinting at himself in the jagged mirror hanging precariously on the back wall.  Scratching at the festering sore on his forehead with cracked and black fingernails.

    The shop was packed to the rafters with weapons of various descriptions.  Ray guns, bows and arrows, spears and knives, wooden crates marked as containing explosives, boxes of ammunition of many shapes and sizes.

    Joffel slowly turned around, and frowned at the young Kyle with his raggedy jacket and shoes with toes poking out the front.

    "Eh?", Joffel said.

    The weak afternoon sun struggled through the crusty windows.  A fly crawled slowly across the glass counter.

    "Afternoon, mister Joff...", Kyle managed to say, looking down at the floor.  His voice didn't sound like his own, as if it was someone else speaking from across the room.

    "Is mister Muffy in?".

    "She's in the outhouse.  With a customer", Joffel replied.

    "Oh", Kyle replied confusedly.  "I thought mister Muffy was a he".

    "Son - so did I".

    Long, uncomfortable pause.

    "You know what the secret to a successful business is, son?", Joffel asked.

    "Erm...".  Kyle had no idea.

    "Diversify", Joffel declared with an air of authority.  "Mama's diversifying".

    Kyle stared at his feet, not quite sure if he had the courage to ask.

    "What I can do for you, son?", Joffel asked with a barely disguised, slightly exasperated sigh.
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  • mbembe Frets: 838
    edited January 12
    The blonde's name was Esmeralda and she was taking her grandfather's antique muskets to sell to Mr. Van Zandt.  
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  • bodhibodhi Frets: 1021
    Esmeralda was about to be shocked to find out that mister Van Zandt had a little secret about all that mistering.
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  • stevebrumstevebrum Frets: 4570
    edited January 12
    Finally Kyle plucked up the courage, “it’s unusual for someone that hairy to wear a dress”, he blurted out.

    As the words left his mouth the bell rang - it was Esmeralda strutting in with one of her Grandfather’s weapons in each hand.
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  • bodhibodhi Frets: 1021
    edited January 12
    Esmeralda uttered no word.

    She brought up both muskets in a graceful arc, pointed them at Joffel, and fired.

    The twin bangs were ear drum shattering in the confines of the shop.  The glass counter and crawling fly were evaporated.

    As Kyle belatedly flung himself to the filthy floor, as if in slow motion, he saw Joffel being flung backwards, finally putting an end to the mirror's misery.

    He slowly looked up at Esmeralda, unsure if he would see another day.

    He noticed that she sure as hell wasn't hairy.

    "You wanna go some place warm, where the beer flows like wine?", Esmeralda asked bluntly.  She didn't wait for an answer, strutted over to the remains of the counter, grabbed an MKIII Mahfahkablasta, slammed a loaded magazine into it, and tossed it at Kyle.

    "Wait here".

    Esmeralda promptly exited the shop's back door.

    Kyle lifted himself up onto his knees and peered out the window.

    The outhouse was swaying wildly from side to side.

    Esmeralda produced a stick grenade from under her economical garments, walked up to the outhouse, and flung open the door.

    She tossed the grenade into the outhouse, slammed the door shut, turned around, and strode back to the shop, her golden locks flowing in the mild breeze.

    The outhouse exploded into a blooming mushroom, coating the immediate surroundings with bits of Muffy, the customer, and the outhouse.  The smell of gunpowder, Fresh Norwegian Pine Forest, and shiz was overpowering.
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  • mbembe Frets: 838
    Kyle looked aghast at Esmeralda and said, "You're only supposed to blow the bloody door off! Where will you find another mug to buy those shitty old muskets now?"
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  • bodhibodhi Frets: 1021
    Esmeralda gave Kyle a withering look.

    "Only shitty until I get my hands on a wet wipe".

    She paused, and swept the shelves with piercing green eyes.

    "Help me load up the dune buggy, what's your name?".

    "Um...where we...what...err...Kyle, but...wait a...", stuttered Kyle, still reeling from the effects of her tinnitus inducing rampage.

    "Outpost 37.  Coming?", she replied.

    "What you...you must be...what...Outpost 37?!  Are you insane?!  They say the Big Itch wiped out 37...", Kyle replied, incredulously.

    "Grab some of those, then", Esmeralda said, cocking her head in the direction of a wooden box marked "Antibiotic Serums".

    Kyle stared in disbelief at Esmeralda for a full 15 seconds.

    Esmeralda stared back.

    He made his decision.

    Screw this town.

    Screw working in the Ditches.  Until the ripe old age of 34.  Like his pappy.

    Esmeralda cracked a pretty smile.  She handed him a box of blaster ammo.

    "In the buggy."

    He took the box without a word, fumbled to not drop the Mahfahkablasta in the process, turned and started stumbling towards the door, his legs weak with a mixture of shock, fear, and perhaps even growing excitement.

    "Oi!", Esmeralda shouted.

    Kyle stopped and looked over his shoulder.

    "Huh...?".

    "Do NOT touch the daisy...".
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