Thursday, December 25, 2008
"Greetings to all that hears these words on dis most wonderdfull of holidays. As President of the wonderful nation of Bongolesia, I send all my loving and greetings to you until you are full of it. I have so much to give to you that we should all be thankful.
As da year slowly swindles to a close, we here in Sudekia and da rest of the country look forward to 2009 and the many good things we can see that it will bring all of us. The government under my rule and command has made sure that it could do to you all that it could, and has brought up much successful schemes to help our national economy and our way of life that it even reaches down to you. And you should be happy.
We have seen new industries come to our beloved land, bringing jobs with it that will enable the people of this land to work hard so we can all get more.
We have seen new skills needed and provided, and so many people getting what was coming to them that it makes my head spin sometimes with all of the wonders dat we do to you and for you.
Of course with all progress, dere are dose thugs and hoodlums and just no goods dat don’t know how good dey’s got it, and would want Bongolesia to be like France, or Arkansas or some place like that. And it is dese folks that seek to ruin our nation even further than it already has been, and change our way of life into something else that we wouldn’t recognize from what it already is…These folks are the ones that want to see our land crumble and our way of life ruptured like the carcass of a dead cat roasting on a dusty road in the hot, hot, sun. And deys won’t stop till they succeed or are destroyed.
Of course true Bongolesians know the meaning of patriotism, loyalty and who butters the bread, and with this we know that all Bongolesian citizens who know what is good for them will do their best to remain true to the nation. We will soon have the army giving the pain stick to those that give us problems, and come from third-world hell-holes (and you know who you are…)
But dis is not the time to talk about dat. Dis is da time of joy, of hope, of gib’ing and getting. For as we have poor’ here in Bongolesia, dere are many folks out there that have more than dey’s need and can afford to give more to help the poor. Because the themes of dis season is gibb’in and gibbin’ makes you feel good inside. And the more you gib, the mo’ bettuh you feel.
I know dat some folks (especially Americans with money, and those of former European Colonial Descent) will want to soothe their souls and help de poor. That’s why we ask of them to remember da season and gib all dey can and a little more. Because it’s the season of gibbin’ and it’s all for the chiiiiiiiiiillllllllldrennnnnnn….
And you don’t wanna see little children cry on Christmas do you?
And as President of this wonderful nation, I personally guarantee that for all that you give for and to the poor dat dey will get theirs in the end.
On behalf of Moolah and I, we wants to wish you all a very Merry Chris’mus and a Happy New Year.
Long Live Bongolesia!
Sunday, December 21, 2008
The small-dilapidated hamlet of Junkotown grew closer in view. Captain H’ameneggz glanced down at his maps; just beyond the town was a piece of open ground, and then the BARF main camp.
He looked over at the Commander of the Fighting Jujus as the PT-76s tore through a barren poorly plowed field of some town farmer whose skill at farming seemed to leave a lot to be desired.
“Let’s hope dat deys don’t screw dis up.” He said to himself as he reached for the signal flags. A quick swipe through the air with the red and yellow flags and the attack column broke into town. The Lions wheeled around the right, while the Jujus sped into and through the town streets.
Reconnaissance Jeeps and Scout Cars raced ahead of the tanks looking for any evidence of enemy forces.
Captain B’ustah of the Fighting Jujus grinned as the Golden Lions peeled off and began their swing around the town. The delay of moving around the obstacle instead of through it, would cause him to miss out on the prize…and the reward.
He licked his thick cracked lips and thought about the fun and frolic he could have with the large cash reward for rescuing the silly European newsgirls…
And the scientists and briefcase… He reminded himself.
He cursed slightly as he thought to himself. He had always been able to be distracted by a pretty face, but this time he would keep his mind on his business and kill anyone that stood in the way of him getting what was his.
Suddenly as his tanks began to work their way across a barren field, the dusty white UN vehicles seemed to pour around his left side and take a slight lead ahead of his tanks. He watched as they moved ahead of his tanks and the slowed down at an opening around a small hill.
He looked up ahead. In the distance the BARF camp was in sight!
AT THE BARF CAMP:
Comrade Commander P’uffdiddie looked over the supply list and frowned. What he was being told to provide was nearly impossible in this region. Comrade General T’uba S’alami was asking him to “request” more supplies from the local peasants than they were able to provide.
P’uffdiddie leaned back in the rickety wooden chair and closed his eyes as he sighed deeply. One day soon…he thought to himself. We will emerge victorious and a new rule will be established in Bongolesia; a rule where people will share and share alike. Naturally those of us in charge will get a bigger share, but that’s the way it always isn’t it?
The frantic knocking on the office door suddenly interrupted his daydreaming.
“What is it?” He asked loudly, irritated that his few moments of relaxation was rudely taken away from him.
The young messenger walked in, bowed as required and reported hastily.
“Oh great and glorious commander, it looks like B’wonahs hoodlums are on their way!”
P’uffdiddies face frowned slightly. He could sense the fear in this young mans voice. ”Do not be afraid soldier. Go to your post and prepare for battle, we shall do our duty and emerge victorious!”
P’uffdiddie smiled as he could see the young mans fear on his face vanish and an eagerness for battle replace it. The soldier saluted, and turned to leave.
“Comrade Private.” P’uffdiddie said.
“You forgot to bow when you were leaving.” P’uffdiddie said quietly.
“Sorry comrade general. It won’t happen again.”
P’uffdiddie nodded as the soldier left. Of course not. He said to himself as the sounds of the base camp preparing for battle suddenly began. That is why, AFTER the battle, you will only receive five lashings with the whip. Discipline and Protocol MUST be maintained and expected at all times…
Fortunately for the young private it was the last time he would ever see Comrade Commander P’uffdiddie…
Major Merchant wasn’t happy.
He grunted unhappily each time his jeep seemed to bounce in one of the countless holes and ruts on the ruined dirt trail that the Bongolesians seemed intent on calling a road. He looked up from his map to view the trucks that he had gotten from “local sources” to carry his troops and weapons teams. Two of the vehicles seemed to be on their last legs. Even Cpl “Hotwire” Jenkins had had trouble trying to get them to start and keep running for any long amount of time. They would simply just stop running as if they had a temperamental mind of their own.
“Looks like we might got the jump on ‘em sir!” his driver said over the roar of the jeep engine.
Merchant nodded. He was remembering the contract details for payments. “Rescue the Scientists. Rescue the Bongolesium. Grab the Girls if he could for a “bonus”. All in a good days work he thought.
His mind snapped back out of its reverie by the sudden snap crack sound followed by an explosion up ahead. The troop trucks suddenly swerved off the road. Most turned left and sought cover at the halfway constructed airfield. A tired old C-47 sat on the mostly level rough ground near a small building. The troops began unloading quickly while one of the other trucks took a hard right and fought a hiding place between a series of storage tanks.
Merchant saw the signs on the tanks. Two were from Petroco, and the other two were from Perverticus Industries. Their conditions left a lot to be desired.
The men began unloading from the truck and taking cover.
“Crikey Major! That’s not a good place for the men to dig in!” The jeep driver yelled as he pulled the jeep off the road and sought cover. Merchant took a quick glance down the road. In the distance he could see a tank, and what seemed to be an IFV…
“Tell me Jeeves, did our briefing say ANYTHING about the enemy having tanks and possibly BMPS???” Merchant asked his driver, while trying not to yell. Jeeves shook his head. “No Sir…nuttin’ at all.”
“That’s what I thought.” Merchant muttered to himself. Suddenly this “easy” job seemed not that easy anymore.
AT THE BARF CAMP:
Comrade Commander P’uffdiddie listened on the radio as his Tank Commander reported engaging the mercenaries. “They are hiding around the airport and the storage tanks Comrade Commander. Your orders sir?”
“Move in and destroy them.” He responded.
The radio crackled for a moment. “Sir I would follow your orders, but the engine on my tank seems to be having problems again. It runs, then stops, runs, then stops.”
P’uffdiddie cursed. The few tanks that BARF had seemed to be plagued with maintenance problems.
“Very well, get your tank running when you can. In the meantime do you see a big fuel truck there?”
“Yes Comrade Commander.”
“Good. Then shoot the fuel truck and roast the mercenaries like so much cheap lunch meat.” P’uffdiddie instructed.
The BARF Tank commander looker up into his sights and began searching for a new target for his gunner. With most of the mercenaries taking cover behind the building he was wondering what to shoot, when the gunner suddenly began screaming. “They have a Recoilless Rifle!”
“SHOOT IT!” The tank commander screamed back.
The crack from the T55 main gun sent a high explosive shell directly on target and the mercenaries with their recoilless rifle, simply ceased to exist.
“Bloody Hell!” Merchant screamed as he watched his RR team evaporate. He looked over at Jeeves. “NOBODY TOLD US ABOUT TANKS!!!”
Jeeves nodded and leaned back a bit. He knew that when the Major got this way he tended to drool and spit a lot.
The BARF Tank commander grinned. A well placed shot had taken out the soldiers for hire white devils. He spun the turret to the right. “Do you see that big new shiny truck full of aviation fuel?” He asked the gunner.
“Yes I do!”
“The shoot that. Let’s make it hot for them.”
The T55’s gun cracked again and for the mercenaries someone set off the worlds biggest flash bulb.
Luckily the building covered the majority of the group, but the first squad simply dissolved in the fireball screaming.
Captain B’ustah looked over to his left. He could see troops scattered about and a large fireball rising into the sky. He grinned as he saw targets of opportunity.
“Gunner, swing left and put a shell into one of those storage tanks.” He said.
The gunner traversed left and a moment later the gun of the PT-76 spit forth a shell.
The shell ripped into a storage tank of Perverticus Industries. Immediately from the opening a large spreading black cloud poured out and began to settle on the mercenaries there.
“Crikey Major! The NDF is shooting at us also!” Jeeves yelled.
Merchant turned to see the black cloud settle down on the men taking cover behind the storage tank. Suddenly he could hear coughing and choking, as the men gasped for air. These gasps were then punctuated by screams.
“What…the…bloody…hell?” Merchant babbled to himself.
His questions were answered when forms emerged from the cloud. Where his men had been, SUDDENLY, came the slow shuffling forms of the newly undead…zombies.
“Oh hell…SHOOT THEM NOW!” Merchant screamed.
A mercenary squad opened up on them, sending bullets into newly formed undead flesh and causing the bodies to hit the ground and flop until they were all suddenly still. Each corpse then took a long burst to the skull, “just in case”.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
The window unit air conditioner rattled as it desperately tried to keep up with the sweltering humid sticky heat of the Bongolesian afternoon. A recent storm had dropped just enough rain on the Capital City of Bongolesia, which seemed to enhance the mugginess of the heat instead of helping to cool it off like most rainstorms do.
A sudden "WHACK" upon the air conditioner with a stick caused the rattle to stop and the air conditioner continued to struggle to do its job, although in a more silent modus of operation.
Inside, P’hat Daddee B’wonah stared at the air conditioner in silence, holding the stick in his hand and glaring at the window unit as if it were a disobedient child challenging a parent. He waited a moment and when he was satisfied that the air conditioner had learned it’s lesson, he tossed the stick off to the side and turned his chair back towards his desk and the disturbing pictures and reports upon them.
He picked up a black and white photograph and stared at it, frowning slightly. The photo did not have the high detail that he wished he could get from reconnaissance photos, but it had to do. He let his eyes sweep over the photo, taking in every detail.
He glanced from the photograph to a map of Bongolesia, which showed Junkotown to be in the Central Northwest region of Bongolesia, not far from the border of the CBPR.
Running the tip of his tongue over his lips, he looked again at the photograph.
So they now have tanks… He thought to himself.
His thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of the intercom.
He stabbed at the button with his thick finger as if he were poking a piece of meat. “Send them in.” He ordered.
The door to the office opened and National Defense Minister M’umbow Jumbow, and Bongolesian General B’unga M’bunga slowly stepped in. Each man had the look on their face as if they were marching into the lion’s den.
B’wonah slipped the picture and the reports back into the folder and closed the cover.
“Ah, gentlemen! Do come in and sit down.” He greeted them cheerfully while motioning to the two chairs in front of his desk.
The men slowly moved to the chairs, and after a quick glance sat down in them; M’bunga sitting on the edge of his seat while M’umbow Jumbow’s fingertips dug into the front of the armests.
“You wished to s..see us, Excellency?” Jumbow said with a quiver in his voice.
B’wonah smiled, showing his large white teeth.
“Oh yes, gentlemen. I’ve been waiting for both of you. I need you to tell me some things.”
“Things sir?” M’bunga asked.
The glistening smile vanished as B’wonah stared at them both. “YES! THINGS! I want to know WHAT HAPPENED IN JUNKOTOWN, and most of all WHY DID YOU FAIL TO DO AS I ORDERED?” he bellowed.
“Excellency, I…” M’bunga started to respond before B’wonah made a gesture that shut him up.
“Let’s hear it from the beginning, shall we?”… He said with his dark eyes flashing their black soulless emptiness to them as he leaned forward towards them.
(The objectives, Hot Eurobabes, Geek Scientists, and a briefcase full of Bongolesium!)
The lay of the land; Junkotown, with the half built airstrip and the BARF stronghold on the left (north) of the table...
South of Junkotown…
The Goomba Flies swarmed thick in the sultry Bongolesian heat as the small town of Junkotown roasted beneath a merciless sun. The sight of a beautiful blue sky gave little comfort to the few villagers as they toiled beneath the blazing orb in the sky. The peasant farmers of the town along with a few townsfolk swatted constantly at the buzzing smelly biting Goomba flies.
Suddenly the local dogs began barking, and the farmers looked up from their cracked drying parched fields to hear and see the dust clouds coming from the south…
“Tanks!” One of the farmers yelled as he dropped his hoe and started running back from the field to the shanty that he and his family called home.
Across the field on the horizon, a cloud of dust moved closer to Junkotown.
Group Captain H’ameneggz sat in the cupola of his T-34/85 clutching to the Old Exxon Road Map, as well as the locally produced map of the region.. His goggles covered his eyes, while a small wrapping protected his face and mouth from the fine ground dust that tanks make, and prevented the unfortunate chance of having a Goomba Fly find it’s winged way into his mouth. He had made that mistake a long time ago, when he was a young officer and learned his lesson as to just how nasty a Goomba Fly tasted. He always made sure never to have a repeat of the lesson.
He looked down at the map, and then to both sides at the rest of his T-34’s. Once again, 2nd Bongolesian, “The Golden Lions”, were on the move. Supported by Infantry in trucks behind, and a jeep recon element racing ahead of them, he looked over to his left. His “supporting element” was the 1st Bongolesian Armored, “The Fighting Jujus”. Armed with PT-76s and truck mounted infantry, their wheeled scout element of armored cars roared ahead of them, looking for signs of the enemy…
(Movements of the Rescuing Forces during the battle...The Red Line shows the path of Merchants Marauders (Mercenaries Most Foul); while the Light Blue Line shows the path of the UN forces under Capi'tan Robespierre; while the Light Green line shows the confused path of the 1st Bongolesian, "The Fighting Jujus", and the Yellow Line shows the path of the 2nd Bongolesian, "The Golden Lions"...)
Capi’tan Robespierre of the French United Nations contingent squinted through his binoculars at the dust cloud moving off to his right. He licked his dry cracked lips, and shifted his butt in the jeep seat to a more comfortable position. He tried to ignore the sweat trickling down into his face from beneath his helmet, and instead focused his thoughts on the sight of the Bongolesian vehicles far off in the distance.
Behind him the engines to the UN Trucks and the M113 APC’s idled, adding their exhaust to the thick hot dry air creating a hot carbon monoxide stink that only diesel fuel vehicles in a hot sun can make.
“Sooooooooo….zey t’ink dat they shall get to ze rescue before me and my meeeeeeeen…” He muttered to himself. He tossed the binoculars into the back of the jeep, and grabbed the radio microphone. “Whiyat Kniyat to ze Blue Swallow….Whiyat Kniyat to ze Blue Swallowwwww….come eeeeeen Blue Swallow…”
The radio crackled to life, “Zis is ze Blue Swallow…Ah ahm on ze station…ohverrrrh…”
Robespierre smiled and looked up at the sound of a jet aircraft, high above them in the sky, as it roared about.
Tossing the microphone back to the radio operator, he slapped the dozing jeep driver in the back of his UN blue helmet.
“Wake up you seeeeeelly sol’jier! ALLONS! For-wahrds!” He screamed as the little group proceeded to move across the Bongolesian Countryside.
(In the spirit of International Cooperation, and to help their record of goodwill in Africa, The UN contigent decides to get involved...)
West of the UN Group…
“Crikey Major. Them UN Frogs have busted out and are moving fast and ‘eavy for the village.”
Major Dan, “Mad Dog” Merchant, looked up from the map at the soldier observing the UN force in the distance. He squinted his eyes at the small vehicles on the horizon, and nodded in agreement to the soldiers statement.
“Lets get the Marauders moving.” He said with the curtness to his voice that gave orders to the men around him, without him having to verbally give the order. Being a leader of well-trained mercenaries known as “Merchants Marauders”, gave him the benefit of doing just that. Each man was hand picked for the job, and they knew what needed to be done. They were professional soldiers for hire...mercenaries...soldiers of fortune.
Suddenly the two recon jeeps sped forward down the road. Ahead of them lay the Junkotown airport, the BARF stronghold, and their objectives, which meant that they would get paid...
(They saw this on "Rat Patrol", and always wanted to try it!)
STAY TUNED FOR PART II !!!
Sunday, December 7, 2008
European News Network (ENN), "All the news, delivered with a European Flair, by a Eurobabe…
“European News Network Eurobabes Missing in Bongolesia. BARF Suspected!”
(Sudekia) Rumors are running wild of a soon to be possible military action against anti-govt. guerillas of the Bongolesian African Revolutionary Front (BARF), after it was found out that a trio of European News Network Female Newscasters were discovered missing this afternoon, and presumed to be held against their will by BARF forces.
“Oh man…now dey’s done done it!” Said National Defense Minister Mumbow Jumbow. “When his Excellency Da President For Life P’hat Daddee B’wonah hears about dis, man, is they gonna get da pain stick!”
Sources in Bongolesia said today that the Eurobabes…errr…newscasters group were on their way to a “secret meeting” with Rebel Leaders to interview them about the recent crisis of concern due to the 3 kidnapped scientists and the location of a large container of the missing rare super element, “Bongolesium”.
It is now believed that the entire meeting was a trick to capture the Eurobabes…errr…newscasters and to hold them as additional hostages to keep any outside European Influence from interfering with BARFS rumored plan to sell the Bongolesium to the highest bidder on the market.
While many countries have denied even being in communication with BARF, sources say that some countries not only have been in communications with the Rebel Leaders but have already sent “bargaining teams” to negotiate contract prices.
The European Union has expressed its shock and sadness at the prospect of having some of their ENN Eurobabes…errr…newscasters kidnapped.
“This is most distressing to everyone here in the International Community. While we deplore any unnecessary violence within Bongolesia, we also ask, and beg pretty please not to harm any of the Eurobabes…errr…newscasters. “
Rumors are swirling that there will soon be a major military action as Bongolesian Radio AM 7.62 began playing a 30 minute Wang-Chung Music Marathon.
“Oh man, dis is gonna get bad…” said a Bongolesian citizen on the streets of Sudekia when hearing the music on the radio.
Stay tuned to the European News Network (ENN), "All the news, delivered with a European Flair, by a Eurobabe… as this crisis unfolds in Bongolesia.
And now back to “The Alan Alda Christmas Holiday Musical Extravaganza”, for your viewing pleasure, already in progress…
Saturday, December 6, 2008
European News Network (ENN),"All the news, delivered with a European Flair, by a Eurobabe…"
CBPR Military Forces conducting "maneuvers" near border with Bongolesia; Officials say "Merely routine"…
(Sudekia) Tensions in Bongolesia already heightened due to the recent confirmations of 3 missing scientists and a large amount of the newly discovered element "Bongolesium", have been further increased by the reports of Military Forces from the neighboring Central Bongolesian Peoples Republic, (CBPR) on military exercises near the border that they share with Bongolesia.
Unconfirmed reports are arriving that National Defense Forces are moving into the area as a show of force against the CBPR. However, word is also out that since the area is rife with anti-govt. BARF encampments, that this may be the beginning of a pre-emptive military strike against the rebels and perhaps to recover the rare and expensive Bongolesium."
President B'wonah is scheduled to hold another press conference tomorrow morning and has invited all European News Network Eurobabes to breakfast before the conference for private discussions…
Stay tuned to The European News Network as this story unfolds….
Missing scientists and missing "Super Element" confirmed kidnapped by BARF"!!!
Stay tuned to the European News Networks; where all the news will be delivered with a European Flair by a Eurobabe for further developments…