Sunday, October 29, 2006

I Finally Got Around To Avenging My Father's Death At The Hands Of Pirates

I had racked up some serious air-miles on my credit card and was looking for a way to use them when it dawned on me that I had unfinished business with Malakan Pirtates down in Indonesia. They had killed my father. Now it was payback time.I got a sweet deal on Cathay Pacific and Sunday night I made the 15 hour flight to Jakharta. Durring a half-hour layover in Hawaii, I sat next to Kevin Federline at an airport bar and stole his American Express card. Once I got to Jakharta I rented a Vespa and drove south east towards the coast. Along the way I stopped off at my friend, Veeng's home. I'd only known Veeng from the Aha message boards but he's a great guy. He owns a chain of Indonesian icecream parlors and is also a well known international arms dealer. Veeng set me up with a G-36 assualt riffle, free as a loaner but I insisted on paying for the RPG with 20 extra rounds (hey, Federline was payin'). Veeng asked me if I needed any help but I told him that this was something I needed to do alone. So Veeng handed me his HK USSOCOM .45 with silencer as a good luck charm. I thanked him and slipped my yellow Vespa in gear and putted off to my destiny.

An hour later I pulled up above the "Fishing Village" that this band of Malakan pirates called home. It's the rainy season in Indonesia and the ground was too muddy to use the kickstand, so I leaned it up against an out fo the way tree and then made my way down the hill. The heavy rain masked my aproach and as I neared the first hut I saw a Malakan raider-boat pull up onto the beach and six armed me jump from the boat. They were laughing and yelling, they must have come back from a successful raid and I could feel the hatred burn inside me. I unholstered my .45 and enetered the first hut, it was empty except for straw mats and a few pots. I came back out and slowly worked around the edge of the hut and then stopped and leaned to my right to get a view of the beach. Two of the pirates were walking towards the hut, their AK-47s slung over their shoulders as they laughed and joked with eachother. I slipped back inside of the hut and slipped my safetly off. The two pirates never saw me. Two down, fifty more to go (maybe more, maybe less. I'd forgotten to eat anything since I left Los Angeles and I was starting to get loopy).I left the hut and saw that the rest of the pirates had gone to join a large group in a big open long building that must have been like a dining hall. It was a tall structure I assume designed to work with the tide as many coastal indigs build their huts on pilings. There were a lot of them. I scanned with my binoculars and didn't see any children, this must be a professional pirate outfit because many Indonesian pirates live with their families, not these guys. So I began to plan my attack when I noticed that below the wooden floor of the dining hall hut they had stored around 30, fifty gallon drums of fuel. These clowns obviously didn't play many video games, this was ging to be easy. I unslung my RPG launcher and loaded a projectile onto the tube, I then counted to three and then stepped out, aimed and squeezed the trigger. The round was low and actually skipped off of the sand before it slammed into the cans of fuel and detonated. The only thing more satisfying than the ten-story fireball was the screaming of the three pirates that had been blown clear of the hut and lay burning on the sand. I unslung my G-36 and put them out of their misery.I guess I'd nailed them all because there was nobody else around. I sank all of the boats with my remainig RPG rounds and then made my way back up the hill to my Vespa.

The whole operation took maybe 2 hours and most of that was walking down and back. I drove back to Veengs and returned the G-36 and the HK.45. He'd started a bar-b-q and we dined on stake and told stories for the rest of the evening. I then drove back to Jakharta and turned in my Vespa and caught an early flight, I used Federline's AMEX to upgrade to first class. I slept all the way back to Los Angeles. As I drove the 400 miles back to Carmel it was only then I remembered on important thing....

My father had died from Diabetes, not Malakan pirates.Man, what was I thinking? My bad.

[Note: I did not actually kill any pirates. At least as far as anybody knows]

No comments: