The Battle of Hill Plaza
September 3rd, 2008, 04:00, Cathedral Hill, St Paul, MN
The lava lamps struggled to keep the living room in an orange glow, fighting the leaks of spotlight shining through cracks in the boarded-up windows; deep into the ninth hour of a high-tension standoff, Duke, Lex, and Rich squatted and curled at varying points aside the wide bay window.
Rich heard a rumble, but familiar; David Thune passing by in his M1 Abrams, possibly joining the fray. It was a welcome paradigm to the Bob Seger the aggressors had been blasting at painful decibels earlier; psychological warfare, though Lex seemed to be okay with it.
A loudspeakered-voice boomed from Selby Ave below, "You boys had better stay in there! We've got trebuchet and ballista an' all out here and we ain't fraid to use them! Can't have you enemies of the State runnin' 'round St Paul with all the Masters meeting down the Hill." Damned Marshals.
Lex, clutching what protection he had in one hand, vending machine keys cast in Jew gold in the other, rose in front of the boarded window and shouted through a crack, "We're NEVER coming out, pigs!" ducking back immediately, giggling.
Confused, the Marshall barked an order; he didn't like being confused. An honest-to-God ballista bolt came crashing through the center of the boarded bay window.
Duke, having had it; shivering with rage and clutching a Yuletide tin, shot up and stood defiantly in the new opening, raising a clutched fist in the air, "You f&%$ng lobster c&nts! We've got hundreds of my mom's Russian Tea Cakes from last Christmas, and I can throw a piece of popcorn through a tank! You'll never make us, who don't want to leave, not leave...alive...?"
10,000 cops. 10,000. One for every man, dog and squirrel.
-Brenn
The lava lamps struggled to keep the living room in an orange glow, fighting the leaks of spotlight shining through cracks in the boarded-up windows; deep into the ninth hour of a high-tension standoff, Duke, Lex, and Rich squatted and curled at varying points aside the wide bay window.
Rich heard a rumble, but familiar; David Thune passing by in his M1 Abrams, possibly joining the fray. It was a welcome paradigm to the Bob Seger the aggressors had been blasting at painful decibels earlier; psychological warfare, though Lex seemed to be okay with it.
A loudspeakered-voice boomed from Selby Ave below, "You boys had better stay in there! We've got trebuchet and ballista an' all out here and we ain't fraid to use them! Can't have you enemies of the State runnin' 'round St Paul with all the Masters meeting down the Hill." Damned Marshals.
Lex, clutching what protection he had in one hand, vending machine keys cast in Jew gold in the other, rose in front of the boarded window and shouted through a crack, "We're NEVER coming out, pigs!" ducking back immediately, giggling.
Confused, the Marshall barked an order; he didn't like being confused. An honest-to-God ballista bolt came crashing through the center of the boarded bay window.
Duke, having had it; shivering with rage and clutching a Yuletide tin, shot up and stood defiantly in the new opening, raising a clutched fist in the air, "You f&%$ng lobster c&nts! We've got hundreds of my mom's Russian Tea Cakes from last Christmas, and I can throw a piece of popcorn through a tank! You'll never make us, who don't want to leave, not leave...alive...?"
10,000 cops. 10,000. One for every man, dog and squirrel.
-Brenn
4 Comments:
I haven't laughed that hard for a very long time! Thanks for the great read!
just remember to let folks know that this is all happening in your city not Minnesota's real city Minneapolis. I dont want any confusion on the subject.
Saint Paul's a city? I thought it was a township or something like that, maybe just a manure dump if not a township.
I miss the midwest. Slavic desserts :(
Post a Comment
<< Home