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WTE_OzWolf
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Australia
Sep 2001
time: 05:19
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This is a short story that is far from serious. Just thought it would be funny to write one. Thoughts would be greatly appreciated. It is a light hearted look at what it is like to be a derranged dictator in charge of an empire.
It's Good to be Dictator
OzWolf had the same opinion of wars as he did of encyclopedia salemen. He'd shoot anyone that brought one within his presence. OzWolf surmised that was why nobody liked being a messenger to him.
His Earthern Empire had not grown to its size by simply attacking other countries. It just wasn't right. One couldn't go about throwing spears willy-nilly. Garaunteed, some smart-arse would throw one back. And nowadays, the spears were tipped with that bloody uranium stuff. War didn't change, the spears just got bigger.
Blowing the smoke from his pistol, he stepped over the latest hapless encyclopedia saleman and entered his palace. When will they learn that no meant no. A messenger, running up, saw the salemen and ran away. OzWolf really didn't care. If it scared the hell out of the messenger, he didn't want to know about it.
Strolling through the palace, he looked at his collection of mounted heads he'd got from hunting. Catherine, Caeser and some guy who he had caught urinating in his front yard were mounted proudly above the ornamental fireplace. As he stood there admiring his handywork his military advisor came marching up.
The advisor gave his best full-ceremonial Double Rimmer to OzWolf and stood at attention waiting to be noticed. One episode of Red Dwarf was all OzWolf had needed to change the official military salute to the Rimmer salute. It made him laugh, and as Dictator, it was everybody's duty to keep him happy.
"Wazzup?" OzWolf said, very un-Dictator like.
"Sir, we're at war with..." The advisor never finished the sentence as OzWolf drew his pistol and blew a hole clean through the advisor's hand.
"Damn, what is wrong with this pistol?" OzWolf asked. "It took me four shots to kill the encyclopedia saleman outside this morning."
He raised the pistol again and fired. The advisor winced and the Ming vase on the opposite side of the room exploded.
"Aw, stuff it." OzWolf said before sighing. "Ok, who wants to fight us now?"
"The...the French my wonderful, merciful leader." The advisor whimpered.
OzWolf looked at the advisor disgustedly.
"The French!?!" He asked increduously. "You're joking, right?"
The advisor quickly shook his head.
"The French wouldn't know a war if one turned up and had a rock concert in their capital." OzWolf continued. "What are they? Suicidal?"
"Joan de Arc is quite possible insane." Pointed out the advisor.
"Quite possibly?" OzWolf replied. "I think it is certifiable. That woman has a six pack, but no plastic thingy to keep it together. That woman has had her knickers on the wrong way since the English gave them a 'right royal arse-thumping'. That woman makes ..."
OzWolf manical rantings were interrupted by the arrival of the Foreign Advisor.
"The French Ambassador." The advisor stepped. In stepped a well dressed man...who fell unconcious when the spinning projectile of the Dictator's pistol sconned him on the head.
"...Ghenghis Khan look like a rational thinking person. That woman has the wit and intelligence of a PE teacher. That..."
OzWolf was once again interrupted by the arrival of a General.
"Sir, we have good news." The General declared. "The French have been thrown back and they want peace. They are willing to give us half their cities."
"...woman is a kind, thoughtful and generous human being." Finished OzWolf. "Wake the Ambassador up and tell him what cities we want."
* * *
OzWolf sat at his desk idly clicking through the reports on his computer. A secretary walked past and as soon as she was out of the room, he ALT TABbed over to a game of Counter Strike.
"C'mon you Yankee bastard!" Muttered OzWolf as he chased around a person affectionality known as DaPrez on Counter Strike but was otherwise known as Abe Lincoln in real life. Gloating, OzWolf filled DaPrez with AK-47 bullets. Just as he had finished his dirty work, he was gunned down by a person called TheFrenchConnection.
"Ah! So the Yanks and the Froggies wanna play together, eh?" OzWolf said. "We'll see about that." Next round and he was plastered against the wall. With disgust, he logged off and called his military advisor.
"Declare war on the French and the Americans!" He ordered. The advisor looked aghast.
"Sir, we've just got peace from the French and the Americans haven't done anything!" He pleaded. "Anyway, don't you hate war?"
"Goddamn it man!" OzWolf replied. "Only the dictator can use somebody's own words against them. Using the dictator's own words to entrap him is a crime punishable to death by frog-n-arse insertion. Anyway, they beat me at Counter Strike."
The advisor shook his head ruefully...the Dictator's hate of being beaten in Counter Strike was legendary. The last time he was beaten, he had spent four months tracking down some guy called l33t_ki113r and executed him on the spot.
"Ok." The advisor said with resignation, hoping the Dictator was in a better mood tomorrow after war had started.
* * *
The Yanks were just being bloody stupid. Who the hell throws knights against the combined might of marines and armour? OzWolf believed the leaders of the rest of the world were certifiably insane. He pondered this thought as he talked softly to his collection of singing potatoes.
He had considered using nuclear weapons against the French, but decided to follow his golden rule that anything thrown at the enemy may some day be returned in kind. If he stayed with conventional warfare, he could possibly just take France and mount Joan de Arc's head above his fireplace as well.
A voice came towards him.
"Sir, can I interest you in..." BOOM! Without even looking, OzWolf killed the encyclopedia salesman. He nodded his satisfaction. His gun smith had done a superb job re-aligning his pistol. But this salesman problem was getting out of hand. How the hell were they getting into his palace? OzWolf sighed. He probably had an infestation of the damn things. Only four months ago he had gotten rid of the insurance salesmen infestation that had plagued his palace. They had been nesting in the bloody wine cellar. He had lost a great deal of wine because of that.
He casually strode through his palace, killing two more encyclopedia salesmen along the way. This was just getting stupid. He called a porter and ordered him to bring in an extermination crew first thing tomorrow. The porter gave him a dubious look, but complied anyway.
Happy in the knowledge that the encyclopedia salesmen problem would be rectified, he decided to visit the war room for the first time since he'd lost at Counter Strike. When he entered the war room, one man snapped to attention, two ducked under their desks, and seven all suddenly had errands to run, including his General.
He picked the main straight at attention.
"General, what is our current status?" He asked.
The man's brow furrowed in confusion.
"Um, I'm just a Corporal sir." He replied, dubiously eyeing the shiny pistol slung around OzWolf's hip.
"I said, what is our current status General?" OzWolf asked again through gritted teeth.
Gulping, the Corporal began summarizing the gains the Earthern Empire had made. The French was nearly conquered and the American's were back-peddaling as quick as they could against the onslaught of Earthern marines and armour.
"Listen to me General." Stated OzWolf to the Corporal. "What I want to know is have we taken the French wine country yet?"
The Corporal nodded. A broad grin spread over OzWolf's face.
"General, you are in charge of the palace until I get back." OzWolf stated, leaving the room before the Corporal could say anything.
* * *
The screech of tyres on ashpalt signalled the rather abrupt, noisy and downright reckless departure of Dictator OzWolf in his Porsche 911 Turbo, kindly donated by Chancellor Bismark the last time the Germans had been stupid enough to invade the Earthern Empire.
With AC/DC pumping at full volumn, OzWolf roared through the countryside, his mouth watering at the thought of getting his hands on some true French wine. Maybe he could restock the losses he had suffered due to the insurance salesmen infestation.
As he neared occupied territory, he started to get strange looks from his troops until eventually, two Privates yelled abuse at him for driving like a reckless nut. Upon reading their lips, OzWolf brought his car to a screeching halt and reversed back to the two Privates. Once he had figured out how to get the window down, he spoke.
"What did you say I was?" He asked.
"We said you were a reckless nut." A Private said.
OzWolf's eyes went wide and he started breathing heavy. He spoke through bared teeth.
"I...am...not...insane." He said as he levelled his pistol and shot both Privates. Another five minutes later, after figuring out how to get the window back up again, OzWolf was once again roaring along the highway.
Finally, much longer than OzWolf really liked, he arrived at a ex-French vineyard. He must speak to his potatoes about the possibility of flying like a bird...surely it would be faster than driving a car?
He clambered out of the car and made his way to the main cellar. Three dead soldiers later (insubordination or failure to recognise the local Dictator is punishable by death), OzWolf was finally standing in front of endless rows of fermenting wine. He wasted know time and started tasting.
* * *
Seven hours later, OzWolf crawled out of the main cellar and was olympic-record sick on the lawn. Then with a self-satisfied sigh, he crawled five meters, collapsed and fell asleep. It was good to be dictator.
He was awoken no more than four hours later by a rather rough jab in the ribs by the steel cap of an army boot.
"Who are you?" A gruff voice demanded.
OzWolf tried to say "I'm your leader, you imbecilic moron. Now go away before I shoot you myself." What he said was "Aaaargh!" as he beat the effort he made four hours before...all over the soldier's spit-shined boots.
"Aw great!" Cursed the soldier, as he looked down on the dilipidated specimen of the human race currently using his trouser leg as a napkin. "C'mon, get up. We're arresting you until we know who you are."
OzWolf lurched to his feet and drew his pistol.
"Imyurrrleaderryouuuuuuisiot!" He slurred, completely incomprehensible.
The soldier raised his rifle.
"Put the gun down!" He shouted.
"Youuuuwilllllnotshtelllmeshwhatstooodooo!" OzWolf bellowed. He pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. OzWolf looked at his pistol, as if it had betrayed him. He was sure he had put bullets in it last night after killing that encyclopedia saleman. He looked down the barrell as he pulled the trigger again...
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Metaliturtle
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University of Wisconsin Stevens Point
Mar 2002
time: 23:19
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quote:
Originally posted by Richelieu:
Prolly oughta have a look at who's been winning the stories contest recently Turtle man |
Did you check out the polls for story contest 3? I'm not saying that Ozwolf is bad, because he's really good, so don't be all "OOH Metaliturtle vs. OzWolf battle of comedy, sh*t man, if peeps think it's funny, then we've won our only contest, it's not like we get cash to write here, so don't bring sh*t up like that, OzWolf is an excellent writer, and he has won many story contests, that doesn't mean that he's a god, unable to be improved through criticism, obviously if he were, he'd have won EVERY story contest. Rest assured, he is as human as anyone else here, and criticism will improve him just like it improves the rest of us, so don't go off and point out how i shouldn't talk because he won some story contests before I came on the scene
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Richelieu
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Gatineau
Dec 2001
time: 00:19
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quote:
Originally posted by Metaliturtle
Did you check out the polls for story contest 3? I'm not saying that Ozwolf is bad, because he's really good, so don't be all "OOH Metaliturtle vs. OzWolf battle of comedy, sh*t man, if peeps think it's funny, then we've won our only contest, it's not like we get cash to write here, so don't bring sh*t up like that, OzWolf is an excellent writer, and he has won many story contests, that doesn't mean that he's a god, unable to be improved through criticism, obviously if he were, he'd have won EVERY story contest. Rest assured, he is as human as anyone else here, and criticism will improve him just like it improves the rest of us, so don't go off and point out how i shouldn't talk because he won some story contests before I came on the scene |
OOPS...
Did i touch a nerve there ? 
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Richelieu
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Gatineau
Dec 2001
time: 00:19
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quote:
Originally posted by Metaliturtle
just step off now richelieu |
Will do.
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Apolyton Time is 00:19. |
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26-04-2002 08:50
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