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Rob-rite
04-01-2005, 04:07 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted

Rob-rite
04-01-2005, 04:33 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the

MacAllister
04-01-2005, 04:44 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot

:D

Mr Underhill
04-01-2005, 04:59 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking

jdkiggins
04-01-2005, 05:51 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground.

wurdwise
04-01-2005, 06:46 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this

FreeSlave786
04-01-2005, 04:42 PM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what

Patricia
04-01-2005, 04:49 PM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through

wurdwise
04-01-2005, 08:38 PM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice

Patricia
04-02-2005, 01:59 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice.

Slowly turning -- beads of sweat falling from his forehead blinding

Patricia
04-03-2005, 03:33 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice.

Slowly turning -- beads of sweat falling from his forehead blinding his eyes momentarily. As his vision returned Harry spoke, "I

Mr Underhill
04-03-2005, 11:36 PM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice.

Slowly turning, beads of sweat falling from his forehead blinded his eyes momentarily. As his vision returned Harry spoke, "I will never give up my ancestors' land!"

"Your ancestors, gringo?"

Patricia
04-04-2005, 12:26 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice.

Slowly turning -- beads of sweat falling from his forehead blinding his eyes momentarily. As his vision returned Harry spoke, "I will never give up my ancestors' land!"

"Your ancestors, gringo?" Miguel snarled, as he aimed his rifle at Harry's heart.

FreeSlave786
04-05-2005, 01:16 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice.

Slowly turning -- beads of sweat falling from his forehead blinding his eyes momentarily. As his vision returned Harry spoke, "I will never give up my ancestors' land!"

"Your ancestors, gringo?" Miguel snarled, as he aimed his rifle at Harry's heart. “They’re waiting for you!”

Harry wondered if it would hurt

Rob-rite
04-06-2005, 04:28 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice.

Slowly turning -- beads of sweat falling from his forehead blinding his eyes momentarily. As his vision returned Harry spoke, "I will never give up my ancestors' land!"

"Your ancestors, gringo?" Miguel snarled, as he aimed his rifle at Harry's heart. “They’re waiting for you!”

Harry wondered if it would hurt to be shot. He'd never been shot before. But still, if he could just make it to that boulder, he

Ella
04-06-2005, 07:15 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice.

Slowly turning -- beads of sweat falling from his forehead blinding his eyes momentarily. As his vision returned Harry spoke, "I will never give up my ancestors' land!"

"Your ancestors, gringo?" Miguel snarled, as he aimed his rifle at Harry's heart. “They’re waiting for you!”

Harry wondered if it would hurt to be shot. He'd never been shot before. But still, if he could just make it to that boulder, he could kick it loose, letting it roll down the slope

wurdwise
04-06-2005, 07:23 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice.

Slowly turning -- beads of sweat falling from his forehead blinding his eyes momentarily. As his vision returned Harry spoke, "I will never give up my ancestors' land!"

"Your ancestors, gringo?" Miguel snarled, as he aimed his rifle at Harry's heart. “They’re waiting for you!”

Harry wondered if it would hurt to be shot. He'd never been shot before. But still, if he could just make it to that boulder, he could kick it loose, letting it roll down the slope, distract Miquel long enough to grab the knife hidden in

Paint
04-07-2005, 12:00 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice.

Slowly turning -- beads of sweat falling from his forehead blinding his eyes momentarily. As his vision returned Harry spoke, "I will never give up my ancestors' land!"

"Your ancestors, gringo?" Miguel snarled, as he aimed his rifle at Harry's heart. “They’re waiting for you!”

Harry wondered if it would hurt to be shot. He'd never been shot before. But still, if he could just make it to that boulder, he could kick it loose, letting it roll down the slope, distract Miquel long enough to grab the knife hidden in his underarm sheath. He fell flat on his face, uttering

brokenfingers
04-07-2005, 12:10 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice.

Slowly turning -- beads of sweat falling from his forehead blinding his eyes momentarily. As his vision returned Harry spoke, "I will never give up my ancestors' land!"

"Your ancestors, gringo?" Miguel snarled, as he aimed his rifle at Harry's heart. “They’re waiting for you!”

Harry wondered if it would hurt to be shot. He'd never been shot before. But still, if he could just make it to that boulder, he could kick it loose, letting it roll down the slope, distract Miquel long enough to grab the knife hidden in his underarm sheath. He fell flat on his face, uttering: "Ouch! I thought the knife was in my underarm sheath."

Rob-rite
04-07-2005, 07:47 PM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice.

Slowly turning -- beads of sweat falling from his forehead blinding his eyes momentarily. As his vision returned Harry spoke, "I will never give up my ancestors' land!"

"Your ancestors, gringo?" Miguel snarled, as he aimed his rifle at Harry's heart. “They’re waiting for you!”

Harry wondered if it would hurt to be shot. He'd never been shot before. But still, if he could just make it to that boulder, he could kick it loose, letting it roll down the slope, distract Miquel long enough to grab the knife hidden in his underarm sheath. He fell flat on his face, uttering: "Ouch! I thought the knife was in my underarm sheath."
"Hey Harry, what you doin'...break-dancin'..?" laughed Miguel, as he

wurdwise
04-08-2005, 06:48 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice.

Slowly turning -- beads of sweat falling from his forehead blinding his eyes momentarily. As his vision returned Harry spoke, "I will never give up my ancestors' land!"

"Your ancestors, gringo?" Miguel snarled, as he aimed his rifle at Harry's heart. “They’re waiting for you!”

Harry wondered if it would hurt to be shot. He'd never been shot before. But still, if he could just make it to that boulder, he could kick it loose, letting it roll down the slope, distract Miquel long enough to grab the knife hidden in his underarm sheath. He fell flat on his face, uttering: "Ouch! I thought the knife was in my underarm sheath."
"Hey Harry, what you doin'...break-dancin'..?" laughed Miguel, as he placed his foot on Harry's head. "You're not gettin' away!"

Doomed, Harry thought, as miraculously, that former pesky bee lit

Rob-rite
04-12-2005, 03:37 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice.

Slowly turning -- beads of sweat falling from his forehead blinding his eyes momentarily. As his vision returned Harry spoke, "I will never give up my ancestors' land!"

"Your ancestors, gringo?" Miguel snarled, as he aimed his rifle at Harry's heart. “They’re waiting for you!”

Harry wondered if it would hurt to be shot. He'd never been shot before. But still, if he could just make it to that boulder, he could kick it loose, letting it roll down the slope, distract Miquel long enough to grab the knife hidden in his underarm sheath. He fell flat on his face, uttering: "Ouch! I thought the knife was in my underarm sheath."
"Hey Harry, what you doin'...break-dancin'..?" laughed Miguel, as he placed his foot on Harry's head. "You're not gettin' away!"

Doomed, Harry thought, as miraculously, that former pesky bee lit upon Miguel's nose and promptly stung him, causing him to

Ella
04-12-2005, 08:54 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice.

Slowly turning -- beads of sweat falling from his forehead blinding his eyes momentarily. As his vision returned Harry spoke, "I will never give up my ancestors' land!"

"Your ancestors, gringo?" Miguel snarled, as he aimed his rifle at Harry's heart. “They’re waiting for you!”

Harry wondered if it would hurt to be shot. He'd never been shot before. But still, if he could just make it to that boulder, he could kick it loose, letting it roll down the slope, distract Miquel long enough to grab the knife hidden in his underarm sheath. He fell flat on his face, uttering: "Ouch! I thought the knife was in my underarm sheath."
"Hey Harry, what you doin'...break-dancin'..?" laughed Miguel, as he placed his foot on Harry's head. "You're not gettin' away!"

Doomed, Harry thought, as miraculously, that former pesky bee lit upon Miguel's nose and promptly stung him, causing him to drop his rifle right next to Harry's right hand.

"Owwwwww!" Miguel started howling like a baby. "I'm allergic!"

Harry jumped

wurdwise
04-12-2005, 05:46 PM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice.

Slowly turning -- beads of sweat falling from his forehead blinding his eyes momentarily. As his vision returned Harry spoke, "I will never give up my ancestors' land!"

"Your ancestors, gringo?" Miguel snarled, as he aimed his rifle at Harry's heart. “They’re waiting for you!”

Harry wondered if it would hurt to be shot. He'd never been shot before. But still, if he could just make it to that boulder, he could kick it loose, letting it roll down the slope, distract Miquel long enough to grab the knife hidden in his underarm sheath. He fell flat on his face, uttering: "Ouch! I thought the knife was in my underarm sheath."
"Hey Harry, what you doin'...break-dancin'..?" laughed Miguel, as he placed his foot on Harry's head. "You're not gettin' away!"

Doomed, Harry thought, as miraculously, that former pesky bee lit upon Miguel's nose and promptly stung him, causing him to drop his rifle right next to Harry's right hand.

"Owwwwww!" Miguel started howling like a baby. "I'm allergic!"

Harry jumped up with the rifle firmly gripped in his hands. "Ha! Are you also allergic to death, compadre?" He smiled, "Either

rhymegirl
04-15-2005, 02:13 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice.

Slowly turning -- beads of sweat falling from his forehead blinding his eyes momentarily. As his vision returned Harry spoke, "I will never give up my ancestors' land!"

"Your ancestors, gringo?" Miguel snarled, as he aimed his rifle at Harry's heart. “They’re waiting for you!”

Harry wondered if it would hurt to be shot. He'd never been shot before. But still, if he could just make it to that boulder, he could kick it loose, letting it roll down the slope, distract Miquel long enough to grab the knife hidden in his underarm sheath. He fell flat on his face, uttering: "Ouch! I thought the knife was in my underarm sheath."
"Hey Harry, what you doin'...break-dancin'..?" laughed Miguel, as he placed his foot on Harry's head. "You're not gettin' away!"

Doomed, Harry thought, as miraculously, that former pesky bee lit upon Miguel's nose and promptly stung him, causing him to drop his rifle right next to Harry's right hand.

"Owwwwww!" Miguel started howling like a baby. "I'm allergic!"

Harry jumped up with the rifle firmly gripped in his hands. "Ha! Are you also allergic to death, compadre?" He smiled, "Either give me that twinkie in your backpack or die."

Miguel

Ella
04-15-2005, 02:57 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice.

Slowly turning -- beads of sweat falling from his forehead blinding his eyes momentarily. As his vision returned Harry spoke, "I will never give up my ancestors' land!"

"Your ancestors, gringo?" Miguel snarled, as he aimed his rifle at Harry's heart. “They’re waiting for you!”

Harry wondered if it would hurt to be shot. He'd never been shot before. But still, if he could just make it to that boulder, he could kick it loose, letting it roll down the slope, distract Miquel long enough to grab the knife hidden in his underarm sheath. He fell flat on his face, uttering: "Ouch! I thought the knife was in my underarm sheath."
"Hey Harry, what you doin'...break-dancin'..?" laughed Miguel, as he placed his foot on Harry's head. "You're not gettin' away!"

Doomed, Harry thought, as miraculously, that former pesky bee lit upon Miguel's nose and promptly stung him, causing him to drop his rifle right next to Harry's right hand.

"Owwwwww!" Miguel started howling like a baby. "I'm allergic!"

Harry jumped up with the rifle firmly gripped in his hands. "Ha! Are you also allergic to death, compadre?" He smiled, "Either give me that twinkie in your backpack or die."

Miguel, turning blue, wheezed "Take... the ... twinkie. Pass.. my.. allergy kit!"

Rob-rite
04-15-2005, 03:31 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice.

Slowly turning -- beads of sweat falling from his forehead blinding his eyes momentarily. As his vision returned Harry spoke, "I will never give up my ancestors' land!"

"Your ancestors, gringo?" Miguel snarled, as he aimed his rifle at Harry's heart. “They’re waiting for you!”

Harry wondered if it would hurt to be shot. He'd never been shot before. But still, if he could just make it to that boulder, he could kick it loose, letting it roll down the slope, distract Miquel long enough to grab the knife hidden in his underarm sheath. He fell flat on his face, uttering: "Ouch! I thought the knife was in my underarm sheath."
"Hey Harry, what you doin'...break-dancin'..?" laughed Miguel, as he placed his foot on Harry's head. "You're not gettin' away!"

Doomed, Harry thought, as miraculously, that former pesky bee lit upon Miguel's nose and promptly stung him, causing him to drop his rifle right next to Harry's right hand.

"Owwwwww!" Miguel started howling like a baby. "I'm allergic!"

Harry jumped up with the rifle firmly gripped in his hands. "Ha! Are you also allergic to death, compadre?" He smiled, "Either give me that twinkie in your backpack or die."

Miguel, turning blue, wheezed "Take... the ... twinkie. Pass.. my.. allergy kit!"

"Pass what? This is nineteenth-century Spain, they haven't been

wurdwise
04-15-2005, 06:28 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice.

Slowly turning -- beads of sweat falling from his forehead blinding his eyes momentarily. As his vision returned Harry spoke, "I will never give up my ancestors' land!"

"Your ancestors, gringo?" Miguel snarled, as he aimed his rifle at Harry's heart. “They’re waiting for you!”

Harry wondered if it would hurt to be shot. He'd never been shot before. But still, if he could just make it to that boulder, he could kick it loose, letting it roll down the slope, distract Miquel long enough to grab the knife hidden in his underarm sheath. He fell flat on his face, uttering: "Ouch! I thought the knife was in my underarm sheath."
"Hey Harry, what you doin'...break-dancin'..?" laughed Miguel, as he placed his foot on Harry's head. "You're not gettin' away!"

Doomed, Harry thought, as miraculously, that former pesky bee lit upon Miguel's nose and promptly stung him, causing him to drop his rifle right next to Harry's right hand.

"Owwwwww!" Miguel started howling like a baby. "I'm allergic!"

Harry jumped up with the rifle firmly gripped in his hands. "Ha! Are you also allergic to death, compadre?" He smiled, "Either give me that twinkie in your backpack or die."

Miguel, turning blue, wheezed "Take... the ... twinkie. Pass.. my.. allergy kit!"

"Pass what? This is nineteenth-century Spain, they haven't been invented yet. Neither have twinkies come to think of it."

Miquel wheezed a laugh, "You have a time machine, fool?"

Richard
04-15-2005, 03:03 PM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice.

Slowly turning -- beads of sweat falling from his forehead blinding his eyes momentarily. As his vision returned Harry spoke, "I will never give up my ancestors' land!"

"Your ancestors, gringo?" Miguel snarled, as he aimed his rifle at Harry's heart. “They’re waiting for you!”

Harry wondered if it would hurt to be shot. He'd never been shot before. But still, if he could just make it to that boulder, he could kick it loose, letting it roll down the slope, distract Miquel long enough to grab the knife hidden in his underarm sheath. He fell flat on his face, uttering: "Ouch! I thought the knife was in my underarm sheath."
"Hey Harry, what you doin'...break-dancin'..?" laughed Miguel, as he placed his foot on Harry's head. "You're not gettin' away!"

Doomed, Harry thought, as miraculously, that former pesky bee lit upon Miguel's nose and promptly stung him, causing him to drop his rifle right next to Harry's right hand.

"Owwwwww!" Miguel started howling like a baby. "I'm allergic!"

Harry jumped up with the rifle firmly gripped in his hands. "Ha! Are you also allergic to death, compadre?" He smiled, "Either give me that twinkie in your backpack or die."

Miguel, turning blue, wheezed "Take... the ... twinkie. Pass.. my.. allergy kit!"

"Pass what? This is nineteenth-century Spain, they haven't been invented yet. Neither have twinkies come to think of it."

Miquel wheezed a laugh, "You have a time machine, fool!"

Harry laughed. "Oh yeah. Stupid me, I forgot." He tossed in a hand grenade and casually killed the King of

Ella
04-15-2005, 11:18 PM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice.

Slowly turning -- beads of sweat falling from his forehead blinding his eyes momentarily. As his vision returned Harry spoke, "I will never give up my ancestors' land!"

"Your ancestors, gringo?" Miguel snarled, as he aimed his rifle at Harry's heart. “They’re waiting for you!”

Harry wondered if it would hurt to be shot. He'd never been shot before. But still, if he could just make it to that boulder, he could kick it loose, letting it roll down the slope, distract Miquel long enough to grab the knife hidden in his underarm sheath. He fell flat on his face, uttering: "Ouch! I thought the knife was in my underarm sheath."
"Hey Harry, what you doin'...break-dancin'..?" laughed Miguel, as he placed his foot on Harry's head. "You're not gettin' away!"

Doomed, Harry thought, as miraculously, that former pesky bee lit upon Miguel's nose and promptly stung him, causing him to drop his rifle right next to Harry's right hand.

"Owwwwww!" Miguel started howling like a baby. "I'm allergic!"

Harry jumped up with the rifle firmly gripped in his hands. "Ha! Are you also allergic to death, compadre?" He smiled, "Either give me that twinkie in your backpack or die."

Miguel, turning blue, wheezed "Take... the ... twinkie. Pass.. my.. allergy kit!"

"Pass what? This is nineteenth-century Spain, they haven't been invented yet. Neither have twinkies come to think of it."

Miquel wheezed a laugh, "You have a time machine, fool!"

Harry laughed. "Oh yeah. Stupid me, I forgot." He tossed in a hand grenade and casually killed the King of Twinkies. He was the new king. Long live Twinkies!
Moral:

rhymegirl
04-16-2005, 12:59 AM
The day was scorching. The aroma of lemon-groves drifted across the air. Harry wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he gazed down upon the turquoise Mediterranean from the tree he was sitting in. A bee buzzed past his left hand, which clutched the empty gun. The last shot had missed. He had given away his position without taking a shot. “Damn bee!” he yelled tumbling to the ground. Laying wounded, he howled to the wind. Once standing, he ran for cover. Miguel had it out for him, this had been his last chance. He had to decide what to do next. Allow the new canal to go through, or die.

"Give it up, Harry!" Came Miquel's hated voice.

Slowly turning -- beads of sweat falling from his forehead blinding his eyes momentarily. As his vision returned Harry spoke, "I will never give up my ancestors' land!"

"Your ancestors, gringo?" Miguel snarled, as he aimed his rifle at Harry's heart. “They’re waiting for you!”

Harry wondered if it would hurt to be shot. He'd never been shot before. But still, if he could just make it to that boulder, he could kick it loose, letting it roll down the slope, distract Miquel long enough to grab the knife hidden in his underarm sheath. He fell flat on his face, uttering: "Ouch! I thought the knife was in my underarm sheath."
"Hey Harry, what you doin'...break-dancin'..?" laughed Miguel, as he placed his foot on Harry's head. "You're not gettin' away!"

Doomed, Harry thought, as miraculously, that former pesky bee lit upon Miguel's nose and promptly stung him, causing him to drop his rifle right next to Harry's right hand.

"Owwwwww!" Miguel started howling like a baby. "I'm allergic!"

Harry jumped up with the rifle firmly gripped in his hands. "Ha! Are you also allergic to death, compadre?" He smiled, "Either give me that twinkie in your backpack or die."

Miguel, turning blue, wheezed "Take... the ... twinkie. Pass.. my.. allergy kit!"

"Pass what? This is nineteenth-century Spain, they haven't been invented yet. Neither have twinkies come to think of it."

Miquel wheezed a laugh, "You have a time machine, fool!"

Harry laughed. "Oh yeah. Stupid me, I forgot." He tossed in a hand grenade and casually killed the King of Twinkies. He was the new king. Long live Twinkies!
Moral: Never trust a twinkie lover!