Hi! On the road to Vermont. When this posts we’ll probably be in Nevada? Final destination to Vermont.

07/13/16 Kthauwk’s Lair 18

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  1. It might have worked better if you took the cap off.

  2. Great. Now the last phial of perfume remaining in the universe was swallowed by some freak monsterbird. Dark times.

  3. How long before it’s gut acids eat through the glass….? Or work the cork out…

  4. Why, exactly? The explosive was enough to make it drop the bag. The vial slinging is purely out of spite.

  5. I’ve tried to learn to use a sling like that, and decided that I could never make it as a biblical shepherd. Where’d she pick up that skill?

  6. @Frith Ra, the same way ANY skills are built up:

    Years and years of screwing up.

  7. *sighs*

    Goodbye… you poor, stubborn f*ck.

    Maybe after all this is over, the Kthauks could be resurrected in an environment more suitable for their kind.. cloning, maybe?

  8. @Muzhik

    In the case of slings and bows.. wear head protection. And mind your ears.

  9. @Frith Ra, re: being a biblical shepherd:

    It’s amazing how “years and years of screwing up” can be condensed into a few minutes when you have a beast coming at you. My Russian-born wife (may G_D keep her close) spent some summers with her now-late husband working in the Siberian wilderness with different expeditions gathering mineral and biological samples. On the days where she was left alone at the main campsite, she was given a huge WW2-era pistol, with the instructions, “Point that end at your target, cock, and pull the trigger.” No one expected that she would ever need to fire the blessed thing because they had NEVER had any problems with the wildlife on any previous expeditions. That is until the day she went to the river to wash the cookware and came face to face with a Siberian black bear.

    A Siberian Black Bear isn’t as big as a North American Grizzly, but it’s not for lack of trying. The bear swiveled its head, sniffed, focused on her, and charged. She had just enough time to drop the cookware, pull and cock the revolver, and take one shot before dropping the gun and running for camp, where she blocked the cabin door and huddled, waiting for the rest of the expedition to return.

    When they finally returned, they didn’t believe her at first until some of them went to the river and found the bear’s carcass. Either it was pure luck or the help of angels (my money is on the angels), the single shot she fired hit the bear squarely between the eyes, killing it instantly. The bear was quickly butchered (far, FAR away from the camp to avoid attracting scavengers) and bear steaks were enjoyed by all for most of the rest of the expedition. My wife was offered the traditional hunter’s trophy of the bear’s canine teeth (which would be cleaned, maybe plated with gold or silver, and strung on a necklace), but she was still too shaken to want anything to do with that.

    It’s amazing how a burst of adrenaline can focus you.

  10. Muzhik, what a great story.

  11. Ram your ham fist down your gullet and puck that up quick if you want to live. Assuming you can puke.

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