View Full Version : Short Story - Boys' Night

8th November 10, 04:52 AM
Dedicated to NoB, Goon and Steve ;) -

Buff caught the police chatter on his stolen radio, just cos he’d ‘left’ the force didn’t mean he still didn’t yearn for the work. Anyway, it was time to unwind and meet the boys for a game of pool at Lincoln’s Bar.

Sven pedaled his push bike up the main street, puffing a little but not bad for a 33 year old. He smirked and waved at some cute girls who frequented his Hello Kitty shoppe, nearly offloading his precious cargo (a katana wrapped for the bar owner, custom order). The girls rolled their eyes. He wasn’t fazed and he sang all the way to his stop “Ain’t nothin’ gonna break my stride…”.

Rodd eased the rental into the alley beside the bar, its sweet purring engine filling him with an exciting vibration that he knew was just the beginning of his quarterly night out with the guys. He loved the French fries in mayo, the way they commandeered the juke box and most of all the camaraderie between them. Good men with a sense of humour and no drama.


“Sven!!! Behind you!” , Buff bellowed as he reloaded his shot gun. He’d managed to break through the barricaded front door to his ute to grab his sweet girl and the radio. The once cheerful bar with it’s 4 pool tables, window seats and gruff but familiar staff was now a battleground. Sven turned, nothing. Then he felt a wet hand grab his leg. “Aaaaaarrrrgggggh!!!” , he screamed as he backed into the jukebox, playing Air Supply’s greatest hits. He frantically shook his leg, one eye cast on the ceiling where Rodd was hanging on to the light fixture, pedalling his legs to keep them out of reach from the group of zombies – once patrons – who were looking for a sweet morsel. Get it together Sven. “BOOM”. Buff to the rescue as usual. Sven prodded the dead woman, hmmm, maybe from….no!

Nine enemies, three down. They’d come in and gone to their usual table, loaded up the music machine and only noticed that things were awry when Rodd, peckish from work, went up to place their orders. He’d seen Bernie being chewed on by one of the waitresses and was about to crack a joke about the special ingredient in the mayonnaise when he realized with a yelp that Bernie didn’t have a throat anymore. And then the chaos ensued. Buff had the wherewithal to rush out and grab his radio and weapons instinctively trusting Rodd’s words. He’d come back in to barricade the door. No one was getting out on his watch.

Sven snapped back into the moment. Never in his little life did he imagine he’d be facing monsters down. He unwrapped the sheathed katana, there was a reason it was with him today. *Clang!* It dropped out clumsily and he fumbled with it nearly slicing his pinky off. Time to rescue his homeboy. “Banzai!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” , the blade flashed in a figure eight in front of him as he headed towards the filthy trio who had Rodd’s shoes and socks in their hands and were mesmerised by his pretty pink toes. Off with their heads, okay, maybe only one and then the sword stuck. Sven put his foot into the guy’s hip and pulled. Rodd dropped onto another zombie’s shoulders hanging onto it’s dreadlocks like reins and riding it while avoiding its gnashing teeth. He turned to Sven to warn him about the third ankle biter. No, he’d have to save Sven himself. He put his hands over horse-zombie’s eyes and tightened his skinny thighs around its neck till it ran straight into a pole. Rodd slid off and rushed to his friend's rescue.

Behind the overturned pool table Buff counted his bullets, more than enough to take down the few left and a few bullets in case one of them got infected. He’d hacked into the police radio and informed the station about the situation. They were on their way and had reinstated him to Sergeant. His wide shoulders squared out and his chest puffed out in pride. He aimed at the zombie Rodd had just left alive but dazed, it had already come to and was after Sven and Rodd who had thrown hot oil on one zombie and thrown a match onto it. “BOOM” , mark. The flaming zombie was hurtling towards him. Rodd was holding Sven, pumping his hips in and then both clattering to the ground with the katana in hand.

Sven rolled in a swift movement, only tripping once on the worn carpet and chased down the flamer, slicing its head off with a now more confident move. Buff hurdled the table and pumped another two caps into the last two zombies who were more interested in pulling each other’s limbs off. Rodd was weeping in the corner, would they ever find another place like this? Would his friends ever feed him French fries again while he was busy racking up the balls? He needed a hot shower and to curl up beside his wife who smelt of French lavender.


The mayor spoke from his heart, “And for saving the world as we know it, I present three of our bravest citizens with keys to the city and this medal of valour.” Applause thundered down in the town square and confetti rained down from the sky as the marching band started up.

The boys were up on the dais, arm in arm. Rodd and Buff’s wives blew kisses at them and the college girls now looked on in interest at Sven. Maybe his stripey jumpers were sexy. The trio looked at each other and knew they’d done each other proud. They’d find another nook to lay down some tunes, drink fine ales and chalk up their cues.

8th November 10, 04:38 PM
This story proves my point that you guys aren't interested in sausage fests. Ungrateful heathens.

Fairy XXXmas
8th November 10, 04:55 PM
This story proves my point that you guys aren't interested in sausage fests. Ungrateful heathens.

No tits, no read.

Spade: The Real Snake
8th November 10, 04:58 PM
Lily has so much tit, she has back tit, too

8th November 10, 05:07 PM
not bad Lily, not bad at all.

8th November 10, 07:32 PM
4 tim-tams out of 5. Hell, make it 4 and a half.

8th November 10, 08:59 PM
Steve of Approval. I am happy! )