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Sunday, March 17, 2013

Today's #flashfiction #BootBootCamp

“42”
Confucius* #Quote



       Today I'm still hanging out with CJ. Had way more seizures yesterday, I'd say around 30 at least. Probably because of the fact the day before that I went to the garage sale. Doing things tends to spike them up. Didn't whack anything so I'm fine. Today went well though without nearly that many. Today I played LA Noire, a detective game, with CJ, and in the video game the people in the city didn't take kindly to my driving. I don't know why driving off a cliff to save some time wouldn't be a problem.
       What happened is that there was this sort of mountain/hill/plateau thing in LA and the place I needed to go to was way around it. I would have to have driven through like a whole freeway to go there normally. So I drove up the mountain and drove off the cliff on the side to skip a few streets. (I sorta had to break through a billboard set up on the cliff too). My car landed nice and flat, skidding through traffic. People shouted “Maniac!”. Game developers plan for people like me it seems. In each case they calculate how much damage you do while you go about doing your police work and it goes against you or whatever. They do it in 1950's money since that's LA Noire's setting. I did the inflation rate and it looks like in modern dollars I do about $30,000 dollars in property damage driving around town for each case. I suppose that kinda adds up with all the poles I knock down and the fact when I get jammed in the corner of a parking lot somehow against two fences the only thing I can think of is tapping reverse over and over to slowly push all the cars  I'm stuck behind out of the way.
        It's a video game so its okay.
        Anyway onto the flash fiction!



Boot Boot Camp


       In the Land of Living Shoes the Aglet War reached its fifth year. Much lace and lining had been spilled, but neither side lost its resolve. No matter how much they kicked each other around, each Shoe Nation stepped right back up. It looked like each nation would stop at nothing to control the largest natural sock deposits.
       Every solider in each war has to start somewhere. And for the boots in the Boot Nation all started in Boot Boot Camp, a rough place perhaps not fit for a boot the size of Barry the Boot.
      “Privates. You think leather is tough right?” The Drill Sergeant said to rows of private boots in the Boot Boot Camp. Barry felt uncomfortable as by chance he had been lined up next to two large right shoes and he was a left.
      “Yes, of course.” Barry was happy that he was one of the boots made of leather. That was one of his more prideful traits.
       “Well your leather doesn't matter on the battlefield. The Sneakers will rip through it like paper with their weapons. The High Heels are even worse and will skin you as trophies if they get the chance. Soldiers all you are is fodder for our great Nation. But when I'm done with you you'll be the best fodder there is.”
Barry didn't care about being fodder or whatever else the Drill Sergeant called them. He already lost his family and most of what he owned to the Sneakers and their bombings. All he wanted to do with his life is get revenge and hopefully rip out one of their soles himself.

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