Just antoher day...

Please add on to this story, whatever u want. Come on u know you want to.




Just Another day…

Frank awoke. His mouth tasted like crap, his head hurt like a basterd, and his eyes were doin marry go rounds around the room. But hell he needed to do it. It wasn’t just any ol day that you’d find a full bottle a whiskey layin round, specially in this day and age. Hell you’d be lucky to find anything. With the world the way its going…well naw he didn’t need to think bout that right know. It be better if he just dealt with the awful hangover. And that he does. He quickly slips out of the rustic brown blanket that only moments ago he was haven a good ol drunken sleep in. He walks across the room, the floor is pretty damn cold. But his throbbing head and lurching stomach was enough to make the thought of the cold floor not a priority. Then he felt it, the first thing a vomit stwein up in his stomach, then gushin up threw his throat. And next thung the old guy new it busted out of his mouth. Yellow in coloration it splattered all over the floor. “Christ” he curses under his breath. Thought ya could hold it in, well guess you were wrong old man. He thinks to em self. He looks around the room, for a rag or cloth. He new he had one a those round there somewhere. He scans the room, all he can see is his important stuff…but wait he remembers its in his drawer. He walks to it, opens it up he sees his box a shells, his knife, his matches. Seems like its just not there. But when he places his hand to search the drawer he feels it. The rugged old cloth he used to clean the green crap of his window the other day. And he quickly grabs it, kneels down on the floor. And starts scrubbing at the digested whiskey. And as hes doin that he looks under his bed. And he sees it. The J and D bottle. At the time it seemed like heaven in a glass bottle, a break from the modern day hell that was the world…but like all the other times before it happened, he felt like # the next morning. And this morning was no different.
As well as the Bottle a whisky he sees his shotgun. The thing that kept him alive round theses parts, the weapon that kept those that wanted him away. for good. It was 10 gauge, double barrel. Originally it was his pop’s but after he died, it was the only posation Frank got from em. And it was his favorite. Suddenly a noise is heard. Its comin from the window, he cant see much cuz the sun is shinin threw. But hell, he was sure as hell bout to take no chances. Quickly he grabbed the 10 gauge. He always kept it loaded under his bed. He heard the growl again. This time it was louder. Sounded like a big basterd. The kind that could take a couple a buck shots before droppin. Soon scratching can be heard. The another growl. Ya it sure is one a them big ones. Frank aims the gun, puts the stock on his shoulder. And know he thinks to em self. Its time to play the waiting game.

living in the depths of alaska, frank knew he had to have a weapon to protect him from bears like the one outside going though his dustbins. he replaced the weapon under his bed.

as he rose grogidly, he caught sight of a photo on the mantlepiece, and all those terrible meriories came flooding back. the photo was of him and his comrades in vietnam. frank was suffering from post traumatic stress disorder, a condition got for his 'time'.

all the nightmares... the flashbacks... the fear and confusion... but frank was too proud to visit a doctor, to admit his problem. insead, he was living agaist it in a widerness, with no human life around for miles.

the bear roared. "shut up!" he yelled. the bear visited his dustbins everyday. he swor to himself he would kill it one day... a preasure rose in his stomach when he thought of its crisom blood on the white snow...

but he could not do it. the bear had become part of his life, and caused him not trouble; it had a right to live. he sat heavly down on his bed. the flash back came back again.

"sir, the enemy are on the rigde" said the sergent. the hot viet sun beat down on the platoon and frank, a captain in the army.
"how do we know this?" said frank
"sir, the airforce have their spyplanes in this sector"
"ok. tell harris to contact the fly boys and blow it to kingdom come."
"sir, yes, sir!" the sergent saluted. frank saluted back.

frank shook his head. the flashback had left him drained. he stood up and walked to the frigde. opening it, he saw some carraboo steaks. he would have them for dinner. he took one out, and put it under the grill. he then made a cup of coffee. sipping his coffee, his head cleared, and he began to focus.

a rap at the door made him jump-he dropped the half empty coffee on the floor and paniced. he ran to the bedroom, and grabbing the shotgun and ran to the hall. he aimed it at the door.
"open up captain!" said a southern voice "we know your in there!"
"do not move!" yelled a paniced frank "or i will fire!"
"captain, you dont want to do that" said the accent in a lazy tone, as if he had done this many times before. frank was breathing heavly. the caraboo steak was burning-he could smell it.
the door opened. standing there was was 4 men in suits.
"captain, lock up and come with us"
"never" said frank. suddenly, a angry roar came and the bear attacked. the men pulled pistols, and shot the bear. its blood melted the snow as it lay there, bleeding slowly. frank screamed and dropping his shotgun ran to the bear. he lifted its head and strooked it. the bear growled softly, as if it appreacated frank being there. the bear died in ffranks arms, and frank cried softly, grieving the lose of his only freind. the men in suits looked on.

wow! i got a bit carried away here!

“You Sun of A bitch” Frank yelled. The hangover dident matter know, hell it seemd to em that he dident even had it in the first place. The suits were all around em know, There Glock 17’s drawn. All cocked and all ready for action if Frank tried anything, but hell what did he have to lose. His family hated em, his only god damn friend in the world was now full a 9’s. He slowly turned his head “you basterds” Franks voice was really shaky. Kind of like a kid pleadin with his momma bout buyin a candy.

“Well you saw frank, The basterd came at us” Frank looked back at the bear. He was still. Frank could hear em wheezing. Blood was slowly staining more and more of the snow around em. And then an idea cam to Frank. As the suits approached he turned round, at an incredible pace. He wasent bout ta let some ass hole federal agent take em down. He one of the suits in the face. Broke the unsuspecting basterd in the face. And as he clenched down with fear Frank grapped the glock. He lifted it to the mans temple. His dark sun glasses had fallen off, showin terror struck green eyes. Then he saw em, There was bout 6…well one of em had been ripped the shreds by the bear. His intestines all over the place stainin the snow like spaghaty on a white plate. “Frank you ol’ dog” The one in the middle said. He dident have a glock, he dident have nothing. And his suit was a different color too. Grey. Not like the rest of em who wore black. “Don’t think I wont blow this piece a #’s head off” The one in grey smiled. “You aint man ebough, hell you coudlent kill any one… less some one who was bigger then you told ya too” Frank stared at the 17. The black triggering another flash back.

He remembered the color of the radio he held to..it was black.

“Hey Harris tell the fly boys to blow em ta Hell”

“That’s a negative Franky Boy”

“The hell you mean negative”

“Well sir e, that’s a civilian area”

Then he memebered, the sick look of the Sargents face, The smile. The sick, insidious, reptilian smile. His eyes too, they were hidden behind the peak of the green helmet. But he could tell they was wathcin em. Knowin hed be Court marsheld.

“Do it Bu-oy” the sergeant said

Frank Leaped out of the memory, Lept like a kid runnin from a a angry owner of a now broken window. He saw the smile of the grey suited man strarin at em. He felt the cold sweat out his panick struck hostage. “You just watch me you Basterd” He pushed the gun into the mans shaking skull. The gun nearly goin threw his skull. He heard the bear wheezing again. Boy was the tension high. Almost Like you could cut er like a knife threw butter. “Now, You know why were hear” as the man spoke steam came from his mouth. “were hear to get you Frank, were hear to bring you to justice” Frank felt fear quenching in his stomach, heard the bear again. And slowly he walked to the cabin. The 4 ones that wasent dead or a hostage all had there guns following em and his new buddy. Slowly he walked into the wood cabin. The Fed, following every movement of Franks. Frank could tell the guy wanted to live. And unless they touched that bear he would. His memory hit em again, like cold hits ya when ya walk out on a winter day.

“Sir, I aint sure bout...well bout this”

“What you sayin soldier? You sayin ya disobayin”

“Sir I just don’t think this….well this is-“

“You sayin this is wrong buoy? You sayin you disobeying me?...well then I guess you gonna have ta die”

Frank remembered starin, His eys wide at the snake of a sergeant. He membered seein the dirty basterds 45. too.

"frank... frank..." said the grey "frank, you dont whant to do this."
frank looked at the man for the first time. "no... it cant be..." the gray took off his glasses. "my god, you have not aged a day!"
"side affect of my job" he said with a grin. frank threw down the weapon, and the two of them came to each other in a crushing hug. relising what they had done, they parted quickly.
"frank, what the # was that about?"
"darned if i know john!" frank and john had been comrades. in fact, best freinds.
"frank, you are suffering from PTSD"
"# you man! ptsd my arse!"
"look frank, i been told to collect up all my mates from my old regiument for treatment."
"ill go with you john; the men will join once iam in"
"thats why we came to you first!"
the blacks were looking slightly confused. the bloke who had had the gun to his head had sunk to his knees.
"men! get a body bag and clear up that #!" said john pointing at the body.
"i will be helping the captain pack" they walked into the hut. john saw the empty bottles. "i see you have been keeping well" frank started to collect up some possesions. toothbrush, flannel, soap, some old photos, clothes and suchlike. he picked up the shotgun.
"no" said john, now sitting on a chair in the sitting room "you will not be needed that."
frank replaced it and picked up the bottle of j+d
"nor that. that # has ruined your life frank"

a flashback came. this time, it was from the aftermath of the battle.
"lietent, get the men ready to move out on the double."
"sir"
"move, move, move!"
frank rubed his blood stained hands agaist his face. what a waste war was... the general had ordered him to do this. he threw up.