About
SCAR
What you are about to read is entirely true. There has been no editing to the facts, not a single biased twist added, and most certainly no creative touches thrown into the midst of the story. This memoir has been formatted to fit your screen.
This is the story of how I obtained the seemingly minor scar just below my chin. Hold on to your hats, because it's a rather...intriguing tale.
It all began around the corner of the United Methodist Church. I was initially en route to a Boy Scout meeting, which my father was driving me to. Most unfortunately our vehicle was ambushed by zombie-mutant dogs, and my dad and I were forced to engage them hand-to-hand. Needless to say we utterly destroyed them. At that point it became obvious to us that there was a horde of undead minions swarming the village, and I was sent on foot to contact the innocents inside the church office building and make them aware of the oncoming war against the zombie fiends. My dad was to go home and grab as many weapons as he possibly could from our personal armory. As I began my solo approach of the holy grounds I already knew I was not truly alone.
I could smell him. I could hear him.
I could sense his attack.
Not a moment too soon I span with a high-aimed kick, successfully striking my assailant in the side of the head, just below his temple. As he staggered back I realized with shock (And a bit of annoyance) that my foe was a samurai; a minion of *******, no doubt (That was actually someone's name, but I bleeped it out with those fancy asterisks you see up there. Huzzah to censorship!). He had always been jealous of my striking good looks and overall superiority, and I always knew he would try to bump me off one day. As the warrior unsheathed his katana I withdrew my own blade (Because we all have ancient bladed weapons on person at all times. Duh), and with simultaneous battle cries we both leaped forward into combat.
He was good. I was better.
It took me barely two minutes to not only unarm him but to force him into a corner where he had nowhere to run. At that point victory should have been naught but a few seconds away.
Oh, foolish me. Why didn't I realize that ******* (See? Did it again) would never send a lone samurai? It was strategically unsound, not to mention just plain dumb.
I noticed the ninja sneaking up on me a split second before he would have cut my throat, and ducked backwards to avoid the strike. My dodge was not entirely successful; the blade he wielded (A Chokuto sword, FYI) managed to cut my chin open. As it bled (Which it did, a lot) the ninja managed to strike my face, slamming my lip into my braces.
Now I was angry. It was on, hardcore.
As I activated the booster jets on my legs (Since I lost my real ones in 'Nam) I reached into my infinitely deep pockets, withdrawing a pair of Needlers (For those of you ignorant to this particular brand of weaponry, it is a weapon which launches homing needles at a foe, the needles which detonate a second after impact. It's a rather nifty thing). I opened fire on full-auto at the samurai, who was overly-armored and consequentially extremely slow. Even though he was dead before the needles detonated they did anyway, since they're cool like that (Again, for those of you who never saw one, the explosion sounds kind of like "Psheew-BOOM!").
As any sane being is well aware no gun could touch a ninja; they are too quick and agile a people to be harmed by such things. Knowing this I figured that I would need the bane of a ninja.
Everyone knows that said bane is light. Grinning as if it was Christmas, I realized I was well-prepared.
Dramatically reaching into my pocket I withdrew the item which would save my life: a Gameboy Advance SP (For the non-gamers in the audience, this is a portable game system which has a backlit screen, so it is playable even in the dark). With that I flashed the ninja some backlight, causing him to emit a hideous shriek and disintegrate into nothing. Turning the system off and placing it in my pocket I continued my approach of the church, still bleeding (But I'm so incredibly macho that such a wound didn't slow me down). After sniping off a few Stormtroopers I entered the office building, where my father was told of my injury (Since zombies always travel with Stormtroopers this should make perfect sense). Even though I could have easily used my self-regeneration powers I knew that doing so would startle the commoners around me, so I allowed my dad to come and get me so I could go to the hospital. He arrived not in his typical Jeep Cherokee, but in a gigantic combat-equipped Hummer. With that vehicle we blazed a trail of fire (And undead entrails) to reach the hospital.
I cannot prove this story to you. No one can. But it did happen, and one day the army of the undead will return.
Be ready, and be afraid.
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Six years after that epic tale I still feel pretty awesome.
Journal
The Journal of a True Nerd
It's a hard life, but someone has to live it. Behold all of my nerdy exploits, and giggle in delight at my crazy antics. Huzzah! [/sarcasm]
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