The Ultimate Battle of the bloody / puréante war potato (2 / 9)
JJR narrated by the hilarious, the man who lived in an apartment without furniture
JJR narrated by the hilarious, the man who lived in an apartment without furniture
Today: Sven the brave or the deeds of a warrior-philosopher alone against all
Recall the situation: Arthur by a scout in the early morning with his Bavarian folk dancers (no, that I added today) and after a multitude of wandering he manages to located at the rear of the army to neutralize the enemy artillery and terribly devastating Patator. In the latest installment, A. Rainbow eventually begin a playful choreography, convinced that only a belly dance to Natacha Atlas parviendrait à le débarrasser des artilleurs.
Pendant ce temps, l’Etat Major de la RAF -la République Alternative Française- commençait à trouver le temps long. Arthur aurait du faire exploser les canons des patates depuis déjà deux heures … Que pouvait il lui être arrivé ? La grande tente de camps blanche de JJRousseau accueillait autour d’une table semi-ronde (JJR conservait a semicircle of the table all by himself) the cream of armed Rousseau. Great-aunt white (Polish) Wl4dimir of trying to restore order with red hair tousled Grand Steward despite the tears and stamping of the latter. After rising through the ranks to becoming the right arm of JJR The Wonderful, he thought he would be entitled to recognition and respect due to his rank. Difficult to be respected by others when Tata Elena "Kipudubëc" yet he washed his toothpaste stains using moistened his thumb its viscous slime. Needless to say that Tata was the kind of aunt to have hair on his chin. Faced with this spectacle, the other army generals were not more careful. The Kantatrice Barbara (DIEC) placed on the plane lying on the tables of figures to represent in miniature the respective forces for battle. Blareauman and The Creator Mad whisper discussing a new drilling system designed from shaving cream, coffee, a toaster and a pocket watch. As for Sister Enizya, she prayed silently for the potatoes and the men who were going to die today. All were awaiting the arrival of JJR. It was very likely to try a new wig for the occasion. The only one who was impatient so nervous, it was Typhoon. Teeth clenched, eyes peering military mapping, he tapped frantically fingers on the table. Obvious sign of rage or a terrible addiction to any narcotic. He began to cry
"But damn! He had something happen to Arthur! If he ever had a single setback, it would have sent a gull traveler. It is sure: it fell on him! The potatoes should be aware. There is a traitor among us a traitor! It's a conspiracy! A conspiracy! A betrayal! Ideally, a betrayal! A mole spying on us! "
Blaireauman Typhoon looked up and asked him to watch his language because the squad of minor badger was composed almost exclusively of moles. It was then that JJR returned with a majestic air in the tent, and as his powdered wig too stung his eyes as he returned to the aunt Wl4dimir. After have found in trying to forget this shameful moment, he said it was time to begin an emergency meeting without mishap. Once the tower floor made semicircle around the table, JJR said he had to do something to save Arthur. Anyway, we could not send armies to attack Republican if Patator were still used. We could not wait for the infamous potato Vidberg attack: they were too numerous, and only trick was to place the balance in favor of Rousseau and his cronies. JJR glanced at all of his lieutenants. For the ruse, was not won.
Enizya then spoke. The Carmelito-cappuccino-Benedictine was probably the only person here so wise of mind to find a rational solution.
"Listen to me. We can attack these sweet sinful fear of falling under the hail of the infernal demon tuberculosis and its Patator. We absolutely must finish the mission of Arthur where he failed. This will allow us to save his life and indirectly that of many other lambs of God. We have to organize at least two rescue missions (in case one of them fail). Two of you will have to organize it. Saving Private He ... uh, we must save Arthur, what. By the way, it will also investigate the reasons for the failure Arthur. There is something not very clear in there. "
" What wisdom! What spirit "JJR noticed for himself.
- Something not clear? Typhoon intervened. But it smells of Judeo-Nazi conspiracy to full nose! DEATH TO THE TREATY!
- Silence lieutenant said JJR. Niz sister, continue.
- Thank you O Great Lord of Justice and Beauty. I resume: While we take care save Arthur, a man must be filled in the grace of God and His divine word make a diversion by simulating discussions with potatoes. This man should be as eloquent as charismatic, but he must also be brave enough to go alone to contain the hordes of potatoes. By the mind, the body, this will be a force of nature. God willing.
The silence lasted a few moments. A Force of Nature? In his eyes, the magazine said JJR perplexed by his men (and his DIEC) present in the tent. " Not so lucid that's the little nun "is said to Rousseau.
- And where we find this man?
- There's a man who I learned all the things in life and God's world, Monsignor. It is stronger than rock and has an intellectual level equivalent to a doctorate in theology. It was I who had formed. This man is just outside the tent. Would you like me to present it?
- Play.
- All right, you can return my child
Then a colossus in Spain (well in animal skin) entered the tent, leaning before his muscular body 50 of 2 meters high. The torso naked, a battle ax in his left hand, he knelt before JJR and introduced himself.
"Sven, at your service."
Only only by lowering their heads before that JJR "Sven" realized he was crushing the aunt of Wl4d fainted.
It was not wise at all this good sister did: she was fully calibrated. JJRousseau nearly fainted. This savage was not even French. He came from a Nordic country so backward that face He Heboria and its inhabitants would have seemed civilized. And yet ... Some speculated some revisionist arguments about the existence of such a region on the globe. JJR was even surprised that Svenichou know about. After ten minutes, Sister Niz came to accept his idea to JJR and his student could save the planet from then walked calmly out alone into the camp of potatoes. In any case, the fanatic was large enough that the potatoes can understand that it was not a scout, discretion is not a feature of its body mass.
Within two months, Sven was past the stage of the brute stage of the brute who can talk. Enizya sister had attached to the colossus it like a little pampering Cambodian orphan narrowly saved from a flood. Home, Sven was not considered a fool. Indeed, the concept of intelligence (and hence that of imbecility) did not exist in septentrions where the language used was simple and throat. By joining according to chance the ranks of French republicans, he quickly discovered the joys of communication. He had a pretty good level to understand and be understood for the life of every day, but not enough to understand the jeers of his comrades. When Sister came Enizya care for him, she discovered a great potential despite his cerebral belgitude. It took several days to Sven to discover more of the language writing, reading, numbers, multiplication, addition, subtraction and divisions. Insatiable for knowledge, Sven had claimed to know more, and it is with breathtaking rapidity that garner knowledge from the German hermeneutic Taoism, through the Microbiology and nuclear physics. While knowing by heart the first 300 numbers of Pi is useless for war, it is not doing worse to know what the Poland syndrome.
Sven walked alone toward the enemy so. Its stride, he walked the aisles of Rousseau tents where soldiers once mocking now came to congratulate and encourage them to champion a pat on the shoulder. Finally instead of a slap on the hip because Sven was really great. While retaining his step, Sven wondered if the applause was genuine encouragement or the manifestation of a group of warriors died laughing at the idea of a man dressed as a barbarian himself move to a horde of potato as when one goes to buy a baguette. "Either they are proud of me or they think I'm suicidal," thought he. He increased the pace of his walk so no Rousseau could not follow without running. Soon he was at the barricades mobile traced the boundary of the Republican camp. He climbed the slope defensive walls of logs and ditches dug for the occasion under the admiring eye (or stunned) sentinel on duty. The plain that began to cross was covered with green grass and fat. Maybe she would soon be red and emaciated. After 10 minutes of walking, he slackened his pace. At this level, Patator could bring down the fire and bloodshed. But the potatoes on the other side of the plain seemed to understand that a man walking alone, however big he could not possibly be a threat to a field of transgenic potatoes .
The gigantic Svenibruëcke came up rows of potatoes. How to talk because he had a dozen potatoes to reach the size of the warrior. It sank silently into the TB lines. There was a smell of germs and humus. Timid and instinctively on the defensive, potatoes formed a circle 15 meters in diameter around Sven. It turned on itself to watch his back while walking in the same direction. He climbed a small hill. The morning sun was warming the dew caked on the horde of potatoes that stood before him until horizon. Observe the enemy with a telescope from the high command of JJR was anything but stand there, alone on a hill surrounded by the eye-soldiers sweet tight against each other. The morning sky was pink fresh orange. For Sven, it was surely an omen announcing the mixture of blood red with yellow roots. All the palaver the world will never prevent war. But maybe a good discussion would at least slow the deadline so that the rescue mission can be completed.
Sven opened her mouth wide (which made her shudder more than a potato), opened his arms and roared with all his vocal chords: "I am Svenibruë ; cke, an emissary of his honor Jean-Jacques Rousseau, and I want to talk to the potato, which controls the armed forces ". It would have taken the potatoes do not have ears to avoid hearing the terrible roar. Not one man nor animal, vegetable or had not been able to hear such cries. The huge yellow carpet that stretched across the plain began to stir and whispering. A large pass line formed from the bottom of the plain to Sven. A dark figure walking towards him. He resumed his march to come to the meeting of Chief potatoes. Before you can do distinguish the exact forms of the potato in question, he heard a clicking sound mechanical noise of a vacuum in a trap, and finally the trumpets to sound evil (ta-ta-tam, ta- tatam, ta-tatam ...). It happened before (or rather above) the small potatoes that seemed to be responsible for all others. Sven felt a wave of fear among the crowd.
"RCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Hello Sven master. RCHHHHHHHHHH (noise suction) I'm Patarkvador, RCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH your counterpart, you will RCHHHHHHHHHHHHH some tea with me? "
An hour had passed. Sven had managed to persuade Patarkvador to take tea outside rather than in a tent camp. Patarkvador was embarrassed drinking tea in front of his soldiers (especially since it is difficult to drink through a fence without being put around the cape) but Sven was adamant that all potatoes attend these talks: it was the only way to attract attention and create a diversion. He wondered what Baireauman and Le Fou Creator had indeed been conceived as bailout.
"Now that we have in the most perfect cordiality RCHHHHHHHHH drank tea Darjeeling RCHHHHHHHHHHH as two gentlemen, you tell me what you want (before I told my men to fall on you). "
- What I want? Nothing.
- How does "nothing"? RCHHHHHHHHHHH You're still not come far RCHHHHHHHHH to say nothing?
- Well ... I can actually say something, but it's not particularly why I came.
- But So why are you come, RCHHHHHHHHH except to speak? RCHHHHHHHHH What are you came to ask?
- Nothing in particular I think. You know, I'm here because you asked me. I do not think I made the visit on my own (except the respect I owe you). In any case the tea is super good
- But in fact you're not even envoy RCHHHHHHHHH! You came to us ... esp
Sven cut the floor to Patarkvador:
"The question we must ask is not what I'm not but rather what I am "
- Well then what are you? RCHHHHHHHHHHHH. Speak finally!
- I think you're right: I am he who speaks, while he who is. The combination of the two form a bilateral mix.
- Oh? Fit Patarkvador trying to understand what he said his companion.
- Yes, the Badgers is like: they are who they are, and their only problem is to know What to do. You understand? Otherwise you're out. That's why the war ultimately is not anti-love. But must first be said that there were thousands of people on the road before us. Otherwise you take a big head. Thank you (a potato came to fix the lug Sven a microphone for the dialogue to be heard by the whole army of potatoes which This seemed fascinated by this court of philosophy). What was I saying again? Ah yes! I said that people who speak, they are like that, he succeeded and they earn one billion dollards, but the problem is that they do not say "I must be me , must stop the acting. " It's like you Vader. Do you mind if I tu te?
- Uh ... yes.
- Well you know what? I'm not like these love potions, so I'll give you some advice: do not like all those who speak only godsuckers during the public life. Otherwise you're wrong. And the more you are wrong, the more you are out. And one day, people do not know, but you wake up and you say "what's gonna happen to me? "But it's already too late. Here you have the choice between following the path that life in store for you and the postal bank, but only few people manage to find the voice that says "Come my son. Love you ", as most are already low. It's the same in the third world countries. We do not say never but ... What the fuck shit god damned? What thee to leave the part of your life when even the perception that thou hast in the world is completely biased by the image that people give you of you? Stone falls on an egg, egg case. And it's the same for animals on a farm, except that here there's no clarification has been possible because all openned. It makes much sense for those who can understand but there are few elected to the spot. Only a few men who call themselves "why not" and pursue their dreams even as night falls. This is where we recognize a man who can think in relation to that which flows into the breach. Why me? Because the world is for nothing more than dust and granules for dogs (except that no such cases, there is no forgiveness or colors). There remains only the "bnégation "This is priceless when it sought all his life to look like what we are. That's why when I think about it, I cry. I cry for war, yes. But not only. I cry for Flipper the dolphin, I cry for group therapy and I cry for abdominal cramps. You know what I mean?
- uh ... no ... vraim
- No problem because I know that deep down you visualize the connection made between you and your other half the world does not need the Internet for love. That's why I learned karate. In an optical transcendentalization speech, there is no reason not to have even a third of the oil in the world because when you find yourself trapped in an elevator, you will become again a small potato who is afraid of monsters under your crisper. And there, karate there is helpless because you're obsessed with the success of others who found in you that you can not be.
- Maybe, but ...
- The only way you got out of that choice Cornelia, is to fill your mind with love fragment. Otherwise you're nothing. Just look in Turin every drama it causes. Because of all that the media they did not speak: it is a spiral in winter, and they show us that people who run from beginning to end. Oops, I Russia made a lapse.
-Okay, okay but what RCHHHHHHHHH related ...
- The report is like a fusion between what is most unsafe in the family while the other swine side and also vicious rodent. Ago thirty years, I was a little boy. Small as a chair that would badly painted. Or ...
- OK! OK! RCHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. DO IT I HAVE INCLUDED!
Patarkvador and all his army had listened to the speech of Sven as if it was an opiate MÉ ; langée a pendulum-shaped vortex. Patarkvador had released all the potatoes in this second state of stupor, and they were massing head slowly, trying to estimate the time had lasted this long and painful monologue as captivating and senseless.
Sven knew very well how long he had managed to concentrate her attention on potatoes. But then that he had previously hypnotized, they began to become nervous and uncontrollable. Patarkvador seemed out of it. It probably would have done well: keep this ridiculous range for the air of a potato authoritarian and evil.
- SHUT UP NOW! RCHHHHHHHHHH YOU COME TO MIND confuse us RCHHHHHHHHHHHHH WITH YOUR Anner. YOU ARE SUCIDAIRE OR WHAT! RCHHHHHHHHHHHHH. GAAAAAAAAAARDES!? CATCH THIS MAN! RCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
The potatoes did not move, they stared down from Sven her 2 meters (and a half) and tried to be forgotten, sinking ant as possible in the ground.
"You will not get far, RCHHHHHHHH suicidal man. We are small but we are millions RCHHHHHHHHHH. What think you do? RCHHHHHHHHH An extension of the status quo? "
When his soldiers, as many are-they-did not dare attack the giant, the commander of the army went out while talking a long sword-laser Green under his cape. No, I'm kidding: in fact it was a toothpick. The poor Patarkvador had little time for it serve as a boot-skin mammoth alighted upon him in an exponential rate. This tragic end was swift but not without interest: the last thing lss potato eyes could see before being pressed by the pressure of the grid black mask was that Sven footwear 57. "Splotch" was the last thing he could hear. Note, it is not that he has really heard. Arguably this was the last sound he produced (and without "RCHHHHH" please!).
"An extension? No! A diversion! "
Sven posted a perverse smile while watching the pile of mashed potatoes once army chief before him. He wiped his hand the remains of a soldier hanging from his heels and whipped out his ax. He hoped to have entertained (what a diversion) long enough potatoes for the plan to work Rousseau. Then he went finally realized that he had around him millions of frightened soldiers certainly, but who had lost a leader of the army before their eyes. Rabies prevailed over fear and a whole bunch of potato Sven rushed to the waterline. In fact, the potatoes did not reach that overwhelm the already impressive barbarian boots. His ax he fly a shower of potatoes incredible. Sven drove for a few long minutes the first wave of potato to all by himself, and potatoes survivors retreated a few yards a few moments before making a second assault of the Goliath .. Sven had just enough time for a prayer.
Sister Niz, I have until now used your advice to use my soul as a weapon. I now use your advice on physical strength. Be blessed. "
And a tsunami of tuber rushed Sven. "I'll MAKE YOU A RANGE OF MOULDS-FRIED! YAAAAAAAAAAH! . His technique of the ax, address, dexterity, and especially his ability to "melee attack 2 against an enemy superior in numbers" allowed him to drop the stupid potatoes by the thousands. Nobody in the army of Rousseau could have done much damage. But Sven was alone against all. He might be armed courage, that was not enough. Fatigue came over him, his ax became heavy. He jumped in with both feet in all directions. "Splotch", "Splotch", "Splotch". He gave everything he could but now it was finished. A third wave of attack was preparing to pounce on him, and Sven did not have enough time to catch his breath. It was over. It was still long enough.
Potatoes returned to the attack. When they would reach it, Sven heard the roar of an engine backfiring. Time froze. The potatoes were a few inches of it by hundreds of thousands. He could not find the origin of this strange noise but all at once, "said his court time and a hail of bullets grazed Sven funny and makes mincemeat of many potato . He was minus one. Sven watched the ammunition that had saved his life. It's strange, "he said, they look like ricer ...
Just above him went at full speed of a flying machine faction é ; strange. Sven had just enough time to see the head of a man at the front of the machine began to make loops while bombarding his ricer. The man who led the thing wearing a leather cap with goggles that protected his face. Cap strips are floated in the wind As the acrobatics of the Flying Machine.
Sven heard the excitement in the driver looked a little crazy accompany aerobatics:
"YIIIIIIHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaa! "
JJRousseau, that takes its time
Just
The final result in The bloody battle of the War of the potatoe 3 / 9
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