The Tale of the Last Stand

[Brill Weave]

The time has come again my friends for me to regale you with another tale of yore. Could this be another tale of Gentle Ben and his foolhardy antics? Nay, Gentle Ben has been remarkably subdued for the last many weeks. Did your humble narrator have another encounter with the House of Al? Again, my answer is no. This, is a tale of the senses, and man's ability to endure. Nay, persevere, in the face of adversity the likes of which many of you will never know.

Our story begins on a balmy humid Saturday. The mother of yours truly had asked for my help. You see, many years ago my father and I constructed a large shed at my mother's request. This shed I cannot lie, was an abomination. An affront to both nature and God at the same time. Shaped like a barn, the bright yellow and red color scheme caused an involuntary wince everytime it was gazed upon.

But as so many things do, time had begun to wear upon this old shed. My father passing away almost three years ago, my mother began to do things around the house that normally he would handle. The bathrooms redone, all that remained was the shed. My mother came calling upon us one evening last week inquiring as to our plans for the weekend. A quiet weekend in the Hamptons? A raucous gathering of friends? We were not so lucky, our schedules had been clear so we readily accepted the plea for help.

We would not be alone in this endeavor. Both Gentle Ben and my other brother in law Martin, would be joining us. I made sure to rise early that morning, so we could handle the most backbreaking part of our duties in the brisk morning air. At nine thirty in the morning, I had just downed my first cup of coffee when a gentle knocking came from my door. Gentle Ben standing outside with his coffee as well. Against my better judgement, I invited him in.

We agreed to take my coach to my loving mother's humble home. The way was fraught with brigands and other undesirables. It would not do to have Gentle Ben become lost with his own child soon to come. Before our departure, Gentle Ben expressed his interest in a morning beverage. As I put on my shoes, Ben returned with two beers. One for now and one for the ride he explained to me.

The morning starting off well already, we departed, leaving my wife quietly sleeping. Upon our arrival, a strange sight greeted us. My cousin Zacharias had already begun the destruction of the old shed. My brother in law Martin standing off to the side. Now you may think me harsh, but when I say that Martin is completely inept in matters of construction, I can give you little proof but my word.

The simplest of tasks end up becoming a grueling test of endurance where Martin is involved. The son of a sharecropper and a carpetbagger, Martin and his brother are British nationals. Now before you laugh and heap scorn upon him for his cockney accent I must confess. I have been cheated, swindled by Martin. For he has resided in the continental US since his eighth birthday. His English accent gone. Never once have I been fortunate enough to hear him utter words like bloody hell or wanker.

Luckily both Gentle Ben and I are somewhat more skilled in such matters. The shed, riddled with carpenter ants, was built on top of a wooden base. Our concern naturally that the carpenter ants had built a home underneath the floor. The pry bar in hand Martin readily came to our aid.

Before I continue, I would like to give you an accurate depiction of this scenario. The base of the shed is an eight by eight wooden slab. In the backyard we had seven people performing various menial tasks. My mother standing near the patio, overseeing all of it with an iron fist. So when I say that we had nowhere to run, it is true. The initial panic brought out the survival instinct in all of us as I will attempt to illustrate.

Pry bar wedged properly, Martin waited for Gentle Ben and I to move into position to lift the ends of the base. With a nod we lifted as one. No carpenter ants greeting me, my eyes are pulled to a strange sight. Several small black masses moving underneath, my brain struggled to register what manner of creature was before me.

Then as the sun shined down upon us, I noticed the white stripe down each of their backs.

In a flash, the raptor war came upon me as I watched the chaos unfold. Stoic Martin, an ex-marine, leveled young Zacharias with the bull charge that came once the fear struck. The young man flattened by the larger Martin.

Screaming filled my ears as I scanned the surrounding area for the safest escape. As I moved into action, I watched as Gentle Ben stumbled rolling to a stop, struck down before the birth of his child. Writhing upon the grass, I watched as the twitching slowly stopped. My mother, God bless her, attempted to rush to our aid. I stood, shell shocked, the all too familiar thousand yard stare settling upon my face. My friends, the next few moments were a blur.

The adrenaline high gradually wearing off as we regrouped in the distance. Our eyes on the hole that had been dug in the ground, which we now know was their entry point. We were at a crossroads. Without the base, we could not complete our task. To get the base meant risking another encounter with this well disciplined killer, who no doubt, knew we were coming.

My friends, we spent much time debating how best to progress. I stepped forward and outlined my plan. The others, for lack of their own plans, readily agreed and we began preparations for our assault. Young Zacharias, full of youth and bravado, foolishly agreed to be the linchpin of my plan. He would be our target. Grabbing a tarp from the coachouse, we wrapped Zacharias from head to toe and placed him squarely in front of the base, the pry bar his only responsibility.

The ex-marine Martin, vanished so quickly I thought he may have a bit of French in him. This left Gentle Ben and your humble guide. My friends I have seen the end of a man's soul. And I tell you now, both Gentle Ben and I were prepared to take this to the end.

Each of us grabbing a corner, Zacharias wedging the pry bar underneath, we lifted with the strength of one hundred men. Tossing the base aside as I expected to be struck down immediately by the lone warrior who so stubbornly defended his home.

But this was not the case. No, this would be much worse. As I glanced over my shoulder, I watched Gentle Ben get hit and go down. A large specimen reloading even as he fell. But then to my surprise, young Zacharias yelled from the corner of the yard as he fell.

The horror sunk in as I realized that we had been duped. Where we thought was one, were now six.

Unfortunately for Gentle Ben, the mother had deemed him the most serious threat. The footrace that occured next, is one that shall be spoken of for eons to come. Watching Gentle Ben's gazelle like stride build more and more distance between he and the mother, I couldn't help but think he would win. It was not so. For while fleet of foot, Gentle Ben had run in a straight line. The foul liquid landing upon his neck as he went down in a heap.

One threat finished the mother turned to the next available target. Your humble narrator. My only warning was the quiet rustling of the grass as she approached. Pivoting quickly, I began my own break for safety. Remembering Gentle Ben's fate, I drew upon my experiences in the Great Raptor War, streaking from left to right.

Chancing a glimpse back, I noticed that my tormentor was no longer in sight. I gazed in horror as I watched Zacharias run from one of the diminutive creatures, right into the path of the rage filled mother. Two men down. The stench staggering, my mother screaming instructions from the safety of the dining room window, I picked up Zacharias's long discarded tarp.

Slowly approaching the mother, careful to avoid the ass, I moved into position. Gentle Ben, recovered with a gleam of cruelty in his eye, moved to intercept. The mother, sensing something amiss, did the unthinkable. She had abandoned her squad and ran for the safety of the dense cover.

Leaving us with five small warriors to deal with. Turning as one, they seemed to share a hive mind with the mother. All save two darting into the cover. The two left behind, the runts if you will, stayed together as we approached with fishing nets. Though their mother had shown us no mercy, we gently deposited the two wayward cubs into the ivy closest to where we had seen the mother.

Our ordeal over. We finished the new shed. All the while watching the woods. The mother returned several times, whether to scout out a new front to battle from or to engage in hit and run tactics, we'll never know. They had gone as swiftly as they arrived. Wraiths moving in the darkness of the trees.

Never. Ever. Look under the base my friends if you're not prepared for what you will see. The bodycount ended up with Zacharias being hit twice and Gentle Ben being marked twice as well. Yours truly, made it through physically unscathed. But the mental damage caused.....well, we'll never know.....

[Karshe]

Great read as always, Brill.

[Brill Weave]

In addition, in nonstory speaking mode, here's what happened. The mother got Ben and Zachary twice. We were going to try to catch the mother in the tarp when she ran off into the ivy. One of the cubs we may have inadvertently fatally injured when Martin dropped the platform when I yelled for him to do so(he was moving around like he was Michael J. Fox off his medication.)

We finished the shed, the mother kept coming back multiple times from different angles and directions. When we finished up two of the cubs were cruising along the fenceline. Backyard still reeks. My car reeked up until last night because I had to drive Ben back to our place so he could take his car.

The shed should have taken us an hour and a half maybe two hours to finish up. We got there at 10:15am and left at 17:15pm. We ended up spending a bit over an hour trying to figure out how to deal with the skunks. And we also learned that even the cubs are able to spray a good five feet or so away.

The shed itself was a piece of shit sheet metal job that only gave us the instructions in Spanish and there were no illustrations. So we put it together just figuring it out on our own. Pain in the fucking ass.

[Seraph]

Title. Change. Now.

Also, tomato juice.

[Shalyn]

*lol* And toothpaste ^_^

[zoobernut]

Speaking as the husband of a professional dog groomer and having had to clean my own dogs last summer after at least 5 skunkings the BEST thing to clean off the skunk smell is female douche.

Or if that is not handy the second best thing is vinegar and baking soda.

[tyven]

i heard there was some weave tellin' going on in here. always nice to see

[Seraph]

The Tail of the Last Stand

[Brill Weave]

Haha nice Seraph I didn't even think of that.