Nukes for Breakfast

And so it has come to pass that a voice commanded from on high, “There is a fiction of a kind that must be shared.” And this voice from the overmind at Indies Unlimited willed it to be of a flash kind.

The voice spake that the minions should write stories based on the mana offered from the heavens. And so scurulous minions then scramble and hammer words into stone to please the overlords. But that work is not enough, the overmind has spake that the mininions should be voted worthy, nigh, judged for their worth. And so the mininions appeal to the masses the free people of the world and beseech them for favor.

Or something to that effect…

If you thought all that was cheesy, you ain’t seen nothing yet…

Nukes for Breakfast

Nukes for Breakfast

photo by K.S. Brooks

After trudging all night through dense forest behind enemy lines, we made it – at dawn – to the weapons depot.

Agent 98.6 and I had gone without sleep in hopes of reaching this rumored place before daylight. We were just supposed to confirm its existence – but that’s not good enough, as far as I’m concerned. I’m going in to render these rockets useless. It’s my duty.

There’s just one minor problem with this plan; I don’t know anything about bombs…

And this is where the problem lies. We shouldn’t have gone in. I regretted the decision when they captured us. And there we were, Agent 98.6 strung up by his thumbs as they held me a gunpoint, the dismantled bomb in front of me. There are only so many things that the gadgets you get at HQ can do for you, building a bomb isn’t one of them.

Didn’t help that they kept screaming in my ear in their native tongue. Heck, I didn’t know it, I barely passed my English classes as it is. But they persisted and I did the best I could.

I fiddled and twisted knobs and replaced gears in the main body of the thing. In the end it fit together in a semi neat package, I neglected to tell them about the parts I had stuffed in my pants pocket after I closed the thing up.

Funny thing is, they were happy with the work. They let us go without a fight and trundled off with the bomb. Me and Agent 98.6 took off again and didn’t hear the explosion till we were a mile or so away from the compound.

“When did you learn to deal with explosives?” he asked.

The mushroom cloud billowed up into the twilit sky. “Never did,” I said. “But I stayed at a Holiday Inn Express recently.”


You can support these stories at Patreon on a monthly basis. Not per post. Just click on the Patreon image. Extra stuff for different levels of support and I will be adding in more as time goes on. Thanks for your support.

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: