10-13-2008, 06:21 AM
"Wow. What a bitch." He said to himself, as he jogged down the stairs, and out to his beat-up old car. Most Dealerships won't sell Anthros a new car, or even a used one, but a Salvage Yard certainly would. Saved from the crusher, the 40 year old Ford had taken up most of his free time, with routine maintenance, and not-so-routine Maintenance.
He climbed in, closing the sagging door behind him, and pumped the gas, praying it still ran. He inserted his key into the ignition, and said a silent prayer, and cranked it.
He almost celebrated when he heard it fire up, and he put it in drive, and started to cruise around, to "finish his deliveries".
He climbed in, closing the sagging door behind him, and pumped the gas, praying it still ran. He inserted his key into the ignition, and said a silent prayer, and cranked it.
He almost celebrated when he heard it fire up, and he put it in drive, and started to cruise around, to "finish his deliveries".
The last mutt standing.
The one and only, Cowboy from Hell.
******
Bury me with my guns on,
So when I reach the other side,
I can show him what it feels like to die.
I can show him what it feels like to die.
Bury me with my guns on,
So when I'm cast out of the skies,
I can shoot the Devil right between the eyes.
