Standoff

Damien | 30/10/2011

I stood by my shack and saw a group of townsfolk slowly climbing up towards my position, knowing instantly that this was going to call for my traditional quick talking if I was to walk away from this with my body still intact.

For now, though, I had almost half an hour to wait as it was a difficult climb to my position across a rocky hilltop, and my aim was to try to distract as many of my rivals as I could so that I could boost my opportunity of surviving this final night.

I was still hoping to avoid an actual attack by this foolish mob as I was an old school buddy of Captain Smith and had always had an ability to talk him down in any situation, but I had to plan for a particular situation in which my old drinking pal might not control his prior skills for calming down a crowd, as if I didn’t plan for this I could think of myriad options which would only confirm a pain that I was hoping to avoid.

All that was missing was a final six hours and my work would finally fulfil all of our aspirations, but this was now an angry mob and so I had no way of knowing how things would finish tonight on this hilltop.

My only thought was to try to guard my shack for as long as I possibly could, as of all things in this town, all that was important right now was how long I could talk for to try to hold back a calamity that was without doubt on all of our horizons should I fail.

Six hours, and my work would finally pay us all back for our long days and months of waiting. But now, just as my work was almost through, a farm hand in town had wound his pals up, and things had grown rapidly to a point in which my work was now facing a crushing blow from which it, and I, would stand nary a shot at survival through this night.

So plainly can our vision look and catch sight of our approaching doom.

But I still had my words, and I could only pray that I could bring this crazy march to a halt for a final night.

By now, my mood was approaching disgust that this insipid group of morons had not paid my crucial instructions as much mind as my warnings had shown as vital to our mission.

A sound by my shack was my assistant, standing by a bush with a look of joy. I had but a small window of opportunity in which to work out that my calculations might contain a slight flaw, as almost at that instant I saw an ax fly past my noggin and bury its point in a shrub.

As my alarm clock got going with announcing that it was almost dawn, I had a small bit of luck with which to calm this nasty situation down prior to my losing my thinking apparatus with a shot from a gun. So I took it, by saying.....

“Calm down guys. Your vodka is waiting”.

And with that, our Christmas party could finally start. In July!

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