Sunday, August 14, 2005

blogger fiction

Annika recently wrote about her first day on a firing range. The photo shows a pretty impressive grouping, though some of her male commenters are demanding to know how far she was standing from the target. In tribute to her, I left the following comment, reposted here [slightly edited] for your entertainment:

Now it's time to graduate to the .44 Magnum Automag, the gun favored by Mack Bolan the Executioner and, in "Sudden Impact," by Dirty Harry.

It's kind of cool to imagine Annika blowing a much larger man's head off with that gun. We should start a round-robin crime blog-novel: Avenging Lawyer.

I used to write Mack Bolan-style short stories in high school. It'd be a cinch to re-adopt that tone for the blog novel:


Dirk's meaty hand was wrapped around Annie's throat, and he was squeezing. Chunk was closing in behind, ready to help Dirk out.

Annie hit Dirk with an atemi strike to the corner of the forehead, just enough to make him loosen his grip slightly. The moment his hold slackened, Annie seized Dirk with a wrist lock that caused him to yelp involuntarily in agony. She continued to twist until Dirk was bent nearly double; Annie's foot lashed out and caught him in the teeth, smashing a few back into his throat.

Chunk saw his buddy was in trouble and closed faster, hoping to surprise the lithe attorney, but Annie had already smelled him. Controlling an already-prone Dirk with the wrist lock, Annie reached into her enormous purse and brought out Cassandra, her huge, silver-plated .44 Automag. She looked at Chunk for only as long as it took to find the bridge of his nose.

Annie squeezed the trigger, and Cassandra sent 240 grains of death at almost 1100 feet per second straight into Chunk's face. At such close range, the burly man's head behaved no differently from a watermelon shot by the same weapon. Chunk's head, true to its owner's name, disintegrated into wet chunks and his body slumped to the ground with a gruesome thud.

Annie swung Cassandra around and planted her muzzle at the base of Dirk's skull, right next to the foramen magnum-- a straight shot into the brain. Dirk got the message.

"Another move, asshole, and you're next."

Dirk, in shock and thoroughly beaten, nodded vigorously.

Annie leaned close. "Okay, big boy," she whispered. "Let's talk."




Sticking bloggers into fictional adventures might become a new pastime.

Then we've got Rory, who needs no fictionalization.


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