The shit just hit the fan
Hi, my name’s Dan.
You know that phrase, “The shit just hit the fan”? Over the past few days, I’ve had to redefine it about 5 times.
Let me start from the beginning. About a week ago, a friend of mine from high-school sent me an E-Mail. He was pretty geeky, into dungeons and dragons and shit. And this retarded game called “Warhammer”. I really hate that game.
This friend of mine was going to be in town for some big geek convention or tournament or something, and he needed a place to stay. Now, he was a geek, but we were good friends. He wasn’t a dysfunctional no-life or anything, he just spent the time normal people spend playing sports or whatever in high school, playing with dice and space men. So I let him stay with me. When he showed up was the first time I used that phrase “The shit just hit the fan.”
Anyway, I hear the doorbell ring, and I go to the door, and there he is. Along with about a metric ton of black suitcases with that Nazi two headed eagle on the front. I gave him a look, and he says; “Oh that’s my army.” And I say back; “You’re not storing that in here”.
See I live in a two room apartment; I have the bedroom, and the living room which doubles as a kitchen. (Alright I have a bathroom to, but it’s about as big as a double wide honey bucket). The only place I would consider it possible to store all those boxes would be the closet, and that has my cloths in it. Naturally, in my wisdom I cave, and let him keep them in a pile in the living room (after cramming as many as possible into the closet)
So then we hang out, not in my apartment obviously. We go out and get drunk, and do some pretty dumb shit, but manage to avoid getting arrested. Then we make our way back to my apartment, I crash on my bed, and he rolls out a sleeping bag in the living room.
The next couple days, he’s gone with his “Army” at the convention center next door, playing his tournament. Three days later he comes back with this insanely huge grin on his face.
“I WON MOTHERFUCKER!!!” He shouts so loud I almost fall off of my couch (really just a wide armchair.
“Cool, what’d you win?” I ask him, not really caring.
“first prize was $10,000 Games Workshop store credit.” He says with a grin on his face.
I just turn slowly around and look at him. “Wait… you just won 10,000 dollars in a game tournament, and you have to spend it on that same game?” I ask him.
“Well yeah, but it’s always cool to have new models!” He says back. I just face palm.
“Look,” He says, “Your right I don’t need anything new.”
“Dam right you don’t.” I say reaching out and tapping the pile of box’s cluttering my living room.
“Why don’t you take it?” He says. I just laugh.
“Look, 40K’s a fun game” he urges, “With 10,000 dollars you could have a huge army in no time.”
“No.” I say rather pointedly.
After a while, I say “Want to go get drunk again?” and he says sure so we go out and get shit-faced.
The next day he leaves, after disappearing for a few hours. After driving him to the airport I get back to my apartment, and find the last thing I wanted to see. The fucker bought what looked like the whole $10,000 worth of… Boxes… and left them in my bedroom. That was the second time the shit hit the fan. The whole room was practically filled, there was not an inch of floor space. I really hated that guys guts right about then. It occurred to me that the guy had to be some kind of genius to have snuck all this in here without me knowing, but I didn’t let it bother me. I was mostly just pissed.
It was late by then, so I just hit the sack (after deporting about 500 boxes of models into the living room)
That night I got woken up by a noise. A big pile of box’s fell over. I groaned and rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Then I heard another noise. That was when the shit hit the fan for the third time.
”Where iz we?” I just groaned; “That’s not funny, why the FUCK are you still in my house?” And sat up, expecting to see my friend still in my house playing a joke on me. I didn’t. What I saw was, I kid you fucking not, a little green man carrying a chainsaw. 11 of them actually. They were on the nightstand, coming out of one of the box’s.
“HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!” I shouted, the jumped back and after getting over the noise shock, they charged me, shouting waaahh! Or something like that. I ran for it. That night I slept in my car. That was a bad Idea, I would have just stayed there and killed them all while they were in their boxes, Isolated, easy to take out.
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.
The next day I woke up, feeling better, figuring I had been dreaming and over reacted. I went back up to my apartment, and wouldn’t you guess? I hadn’t been. I opened the door, to find about 500 little green men dead on the floor, and about half that still alive. Wrecked vehicles were strewn about, a few still worked. As I walked in, a bomb about the size of an M80 landed next to my foot. I jumped back to avoid it. All the green men were fighting, it looked like there were 2 sides though, there was this big one, about twice as big as the rest, with big (what am I saying, he was less than two inches tall!) pistons and shit on his arms, and big ass claw, he had a gin in one hand and was shooting up a bunch of smaller ones. I heard him say something like Gay-skull or Gras-cool, something like that. There was another big one, with about 7 slightly smaller ones behind him, they were charging the big-ass guy with claws and stuff, and, dumb as I am, I decided to warn him.
“Hey gray skull, look out!” He turned around without even looking where the voice came from, and saw the 8 of them, he shot one, charged over and bit ones head off, they tried to attack him but he didn’t even notice and mowed down like 5 more before the last two ran for it, they got ran over by something that looked like a 3 foot tall voodoo doll.
It was then that I realized, the shit had definitely hit the fan. There were two armies of little green men fighting in my living room.
Then the voodoo-doll from hell charged me, and shot me in the foot with another one of those M80 things, it hurt like a bitch, so I kicked and shouted, “You FUCKING piece OF [B]SHIT[/B}!!!” It flew across the room into my window fan. They both broke, my fan was mangled, and the treads of the voodoo doll came off and its arms fell to the floor. The shit, literally hit the fan. At the sound this made all the green men turned to me as one. They all got deadly silent. The big guy I saved then got on top of a wrecked vehicle and shouted lowed enough for everyone to hear.
“Wut I’d tell yuz boyz? Its Mork!” From there I just fell over laughing. I’m sure to the little green men his voice was booming and imposing, but to me it was like a little kid, and Mork? WTF is that? Not Mindy’s pall I hope…
Then they all shouted “WAAAHHH!” Or something like that. I closed the door. I wasn’t going to deal with it. I was going to go get a drink. I was going to tell the cops, and then… Oh shit I was late for work!... You know what? I was just going to go get drunk, I needed to lose my grip on reality.
Then I heard a scream two doors down. There’s something about that door you should know, the chick who lives in that apartment is the hottest babe in the history of the human race. So I thought with my balls and not my brain and ran off to go help her. Big mistake, I thought little green men throwing M80 was bad, well She comes ruining out of her room, and this little tank, no bigger than an RC car, comes rampaging after her, shooting gouts of flame about 8” long, and about 5 M80-sized rockets come careening after her at about 3 feet up. I kick the RC tank and it explodes, bad idea. My foot is now burnt, and the edge of my pants is smoldering. Meanwhile, that babe, Lauren, her brand new looking *white* sneakers are scorched black all over the heals, and her ankles are oozing puss from some pretty bad looking burns. I look into her doorway, and I see something that pretty much qualified for another “the shit just hit the fan.” An army of white clad soldiers, backed up by about 20 tanks and what looked like a bunch of transformers. Everything was belching fire. I slammed the door.
That’s where I am now. And needless to say, the shit has hit the fan.
“What the fuck was that?” I ask her very wary, and wondering what a babe liker her was doing with that much warhammer shit.
“About 10,000 points of witch hunters, only… real.” She said shakily. I was shocked. She must actually play that game. Maby I should give it a try… THERE ARE LITTLE GREEN MEN IN MY APARTMENT NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR GAMES!!!
“Oh.” I say. Then something else occurs to me. “You don’t know of anyone else we should be worried about do you?”
She gets this look on her face, and then she goes, “Well, actually I can think of three.” “Fantastic.” I say with a sigh. “My names Dan by the way.”
“Lauren.” He says. “Did your…?”
“I don’t actually play, someone pawned them off on me… little green men?”
Her eyes get wide. “Oh God, all their vehicles look like junk heeps and dey tok like dis?” “Uh… yeah.” I say, a bit disturbed at her impersonation. “Orks.” She Sais Face palming.
Then we hear several things at once. From the floor below, this boom echos. And mean a BOOM. None of this firework sized business the “orcs” had been throwing at me. From the floors above us, I hear another scream, and a door slam. She tells me “Go check on the guy below us.” And runs off. Im somewhat indignant at this. I have to check on the explosion? But she already ran off so I might as well go down there… On the way down the stairs, this fat guy comes running up twards me, and at first I just go to let him pass, but they I look behind him… there are these jet thigs, unloading rockets at him, this guy is hauling ass, but it looks like these things pack firepower (well, for being about 6” long anyway), his arm is all red and half the shots are missing. I run down and throw one into a wall. The other two fly off back down the stairs at that.
“Hi.” I say in a surprisingly normal tone. This is crazy, but I’m on overload, I’m past freaking out. Then Lauren and two other guys, a big black guy and an Asian guy about 20 come running down the stairs. Lauren quips “Imperitor.” To the fat guy, and he gets this look of horror on his face and then I hear this Sound like a cheesy robot from the movies, and look up. At the top of the stairs is a thing that looks like a reject from transformers. Its big and bulky with two arms, one of which shoots a beam of blue light at the wall about 2” from my face, leaving a hole the size of my head. The five of us take off running.
Lucky for us, it tries to follow and trips on the stairs, fumiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, one moment I was terrified then it was barreling past me, all that was left at the bottom of the well was a pile of scraps. Everyone got these Wait, I should be panicking, or should I WTF? expressions, I couldn’t help laughing.
“We should all go somewhere to talk about this.” Said the Asian despondently.
“Yeah, who’s this guy?” asks the black guy. “He has Orks.” Says Lauren to him with a grimace. He shakes his head. “Perfect timing for me to have started world eaters.” He mutters.
The fat guy stands up, and looks all indignant. “I suggest we get out of here, there are still two deathstrikes down there that haven’t been fired. I don’t want to know what will happen if one gets fired at the stove.
So about 15 minets later, were sitting at burger king, and I have the lowdown on what’s going on.
The four people I’m sitting with have a games group, they play warhammer every Saturday at a local store. Lauren has the least models, although she has a huge army, 10,000 points (still not clear what that means, but I saw it for myself so I get the gist) of witch hunters, or “Battle sisters” apparently they’re kind of like a cross between the KKK, the Catholic church, and the military. And they like flamethrowers apparently. (Well no shit!)
Then there’s the black guy, his name is Carl, and he apparently plays “Chaos Space Marines” and “Dark elder” He focuses on Sl.. Slane… I’ve got no idea how to spell it. But recently started a corn army (I’m just going with It at this point) apparently his guys are crazy motherfuckers who want to eat your soul. Peachy.
The Asian kid, mike, plays elder, Tao, and “Space marines”. Respectively magical techno-ninjas, militant pacifists (?) with super technology, and super Nazis. Joy.
Then there’s the fat guy, Bob, his guys are a barrel of laughs. The Nechons, who apparently want to kill everything in the universe, the imperial guard, basically Nazis by the sound of it, and the tyranids, who just sound like crazy space bugs.
And then there’s mine. Apparently mine are supposed to be comic relief. They’re fungus-people who do nothing but fight until they run out of things to kill, and then fight themselves until someone with enough brains to tell them where someone else to fight is comes along. Very funny. They say that 99% of what they have will do jack shit against us, but there are about three things left that could really fuck us up. Something called a “bio-titan” two things called “Deathstrike missile launchers” (sound like glorified nukes) and a Super huge tank called a bane blade. On top of that they tell me I should be careful around bobs room because of basilisks and manticores. What the fuck those are I have no idea.
This is going to be interesting.
"A true king is never alone, his will is equal to the will of all of his followers."
-Alexander the Great, kind of