Sunday, June 20, 2010

The Wall

June 19th, 2010. After a late afternoon rally by the Darger assault troops, the mighty, FORCE-RECON specialist, No.51, was called into action with hopes of putting the Dargers in a position for a last-ditch raid on the giant, walled fortress of Fenway. The hired gun, however, was unable to hold off the battlemented Bostonians.
L is for LP not EP

Saturday, June 19, 2010


June 18th, 2010. The Darger riflers were overrun on Friday night by a monstrous effort by the Bostonian minutemen. No.37, and his immediate successor, No.38, were slaughtered during the setback, showing little or no aptitude to command troop movement at this level of military action. The breakdown of the Darger's air-defenses left the big, mobile guns of Traffic Town exposed, and they were unable to mount a meaningful assault against the ancient fortress of Fenway.
L is for Verde.

Friday, June 18, 2010

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Matinee of Mayhem

June 17th, 2010. With a poised index finger posing as a mustache, the young charlatan, Number 48, was hoping to gradually stroll onto the Great American Battlefield, and waltz away with an easy rout of any enemy regiment willing to show up this morning. Instead, he was pounced upon by a group of local militiamen, fully exposing him as the raw, inexperienced, recruit that he rightfully is. The rookie commander was often off-target, and  failed to maintain air superiority, which allowed a resilient city time to mount a well-timed counter-attack, which resulted in a timely withdraw for the Darger mobilized forces. With the frontal advance cut-off, the mighty howitzers of Traffic Town were out of range, unable to complete the sacking of Cincinnati.
L is for Legoland of Lost Liberties.

Brick by Brick

June 16th, 2010. The might and efficiency of No.99 and No.16 demolished the Ohio guardsmen on Wednesday night with decisive ballistic strikes, and the swagger was back in No.22, as he led a strong, continuous, assault against the menacing, red, fighting machine. 
W is for Winnebago.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

12 Dozen Tons

June 15th, 2010. The tanks rolled out of Traffic Town in the early dawn on Monday, setting a course 2,200 miles across the great, dividing states, and landing them back in action on the Great American Battlefield. By Tuesday evening, the Dargers had arrived at the outskirts of Porkopolis, and unfurled a massive attack upon the bloodstained bulwarks of the city's inner defenses. The blitzkrieg propelled the Darger assault well into the forefront of the battle. Then, after a magnificent bank of thunderclouds rolled through the demilitarized zone, causing a temporary truce, the Dargers, behind the killing machinations of No.15 and No.99, unleashed a ferocious attack, resulting in a deadly rout of the Ohio National Guardsmen.
W is for Kent State.

Monday, June 14, 2010

The Manson/Nixon Line

June 13th, 2010. Having just paced myself awake from a short nap, I slowly began to pick myself up from off the sticky, kitchen floor. There was apple juice pooled at the base of the refrigerator, and there was blood running down my hand. Darger was silhouetted in front of the window, blocking out the late afternoon sun. There was smoke rising from his body, and the smell of him made my head hurt.
    "Jesus Christ! You stupid idiot!" I shouted. Dizzy, I immediately layed back down on the floor, shut my eyes, and angrily added, "That was the last of the apple juice, you dumb scumbag!"
    I wanted to jump up, and tackle him- sending him crashing through the big, black, granite, kitchen sink.
I wanted to bash his head into a board of broken nails.
I was so angry, I felt like driving a burning, pickup truck down his throat. Yet, all the anger and hatred that I felt paled in comparison to the dark, violent, rage I had witnessed from Darger earlier, when we had learned that Traffic Town had just been swept in the Freeway Series by the I-5 interlopers from down south.
L is for Helter-Skidaddle.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Lagging Rights

June 12th, 2010. The street-fighting within the immediate vicinity of Chavez Ravine continued late into the summery, Saturday night, with the hallowed victory going to the intrusive, intrastate, I-5 foe from the valley of shopping malls and suburbian sprawl just south of the Manson/Nixon Line. 
L is for Never leave a man on base!

Saturday, June 12, 2010

A Feast of Firsts

June 11th, 2010. Karen's last day of Kindergarten, coincidentally falling on the last day of my summer vacation, was supposed to be a celebration- a time to reflect, snap a few photos, and dine on cupcakes- so I was fortunate enough to drop by a little later than normal yesterday, practically missing the closing ceremony entirely. Big Karen glared at me when I entered the back of the school gymnasium, and when I bumped into the back row of plastic chairs - the kind can you buy at the Food-4-All - Little Karen followed suit.
    A short time later, I was frantically devouring a small bounty of conciliatory chocolate cake when they walked past me on their way to the buffet table. "Hey First Grader!" I sang out.
    "I'm not in First grade, yet." snarled Little Karen. "I'm Post-K." she added, as she grabbed the plastic plate piled high of guilty pleasure from my hand.
    "Okay, Post-K." I said. "There's no rush."
    But she was already gone. She was grabbing a handful of gummi worms from the elaborate spread put before her by the graduation committee committed to fortifying the children with superfluous confections. Big Karen was standing beside me now.
    I tried to rally. "Post-K? She belongs in Special-K!" I laughed.
    Big Karen elbowed me in the chest.
    "You're such a boob." she muttered. Then she, too, reached for the bowl of sugary, little snakes.
L is for Value the Child Left Behind.

Friday, June 11, 2010


Dead Bird Falling

June 9th, 2010. On Wednesday night, the Dargers defeated the Arch enemy from Missouri for the third straight day, sending the beaten band of barons back to the river bend. The Darger regulars hope to build on the strong momentum as they gear up for a highly anticipated conflict with their neighbors driving up Interstate 5 from El Ciudad de Raton de Miguel.
W is for Kriegsheld .

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Topped Gun

June 8th, 2010. For the second day, the citizens of Traffic Town rushed the hours away, driving in the anxiety-riddled heat, waiting for the renowned, red flying ace to take flight. Nonetheless, a promotional-sized crowd turned out to witness to the sky battle. 
   Matching his aerial adversary in every aspect of effort, effectiveness, and emotion, No.18 fought, perhaps, his best battle of the 2010 campaign. He baffled the buschwhackers with his battle plan, allowing the Darger ground forces time to draw the opposing army into a war of attrition- ultimately, grounding the enemy ace. The departure opened the door for No.99, who promptly launched a compliant rocket blast over the overstretched defenses who had been trying to overrun the ravine.  Any thought of a retaliatory strike from the nuclear superpower was eradicated by the celebrational big gun, No.51.
W is for Cardinal fin.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Aim Low-Shoot High!

June 7th, 2010. The city of Traffic Town was put on high alert Monday with the arrival of the arch-rival warmongers from the central plains. Swirling rumors of an Atomic bomb being detonated over Chavez Ravine paralyzed traffic throughout the city.
    Much to the relief of the Darger's and the local citizenry, the rumors turned out to be just that, and the invading horde was pounced upon by a ready and able, mechanized fighting machine. It was the mightiest onslaught of firepower displayed by the Darger artillerymen since the earliest weeks of the war effort. Displaying the morale and fighting aptitude of an everyday soldier, Number 33, led the attack with multiple rocket strikes and a mile-high howitzer blast late in the assault. 
    The fresh-faced, air defenses, anchored by No.37, held up quite well, and kept the squadron of Atom bomb dropping red birds out of range for the night. But, on Tuesday, the fear and loathing will surely set in again, as the Red Baron is on deck to take to the skies.
W is for Fliegerabwehrkanone.

Monday, June 7, 2010

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Darger Day

June 6th, 2010. On a sunny, sky-filled, Sunday, sixty-six years after the Allied forces crash-landed on the bloody shores of Normandy Beach, the Dargers of Traffic Town attentively stormed back from multiple deficits to drowned out the penchant, pennant-chasing, rebel yells from the Peach State. The back-up planning of No.17 and No.55 eventually paid off for the home army, giving them a brief respite from the daily disorder of war, and an opportunity to refortify before another week of fighting resumes tomorrow.
W is for War Paint.

Wrung Out To Dry.

June 5th, 2010. "My, God. It's full of jars." I gasped. I lowered my sunglasses, and turned to Darger. He was sniffing at the waxy paper from the package of cheese slices he had been carrying. Then he pulled back a short sleeve of his t-shirt, and sniffed at his armpit. 
    "It's Colby." he stammered.
    "No. It's moldy, you foul bastard!" I told him. "You smell moldy! Like a dead toad wrapped up in a wet towel! Jesus F. Christ!"
Then I fixated my attention back to the extensive, plexus of jars that Darger had burrowed into the ruddy, dirt embankment quietly nestled behind the overgrowth by the loading dock of the Food-4-All.
    "What in the hell is all this?" I demanded. Then I proposed, "Those are your clothes? In those jars? In those holes? You keep your clothes stuffed into jars that you stuff into holes that you dug into the dirt?!" 
    Darger nodded, then slowly reached out and pulled a mayonaise-sized, glass jar from it's singular, dusty, little hole-in-the-wall. He struggled to open it, but ultimately, I knocked it from his hands, and it proudly cracked open like the last rotten egg onto the hard, dry ground. I immediately recognized the damp, tightly-rolled, mass of smelly felt to be one of Darger's old, Traffic Town sweatshirts. 
    "Eeewww!" I choked. "That's dank! You're going to have to air that thing out! It's no wonder you smell like you just sat in a big, pile of mildew."
    Darger grinned. Then he wiped his armpits with the cheese wrapper and said, "It's Colby. I'm going to open a jar of pants, now."
L is for Fourme d'Ambert.

Saturday, June 5, 2010


June 4th, 2010. On Friday night, under the illuminated bursts of the white phosphorous ordinance exploding over the war-ravaged terrain of Chavez Ravine, the Darger paramilitary troops beat back the streaking, brave, warriors from the Southeast. The Traffic Town army maintained an aggressive edge on the front lines, then rallied late behind an accurately placed Tomahawk missile strike from Number 7.
W is for Muskogee Confederacy

Friday, June 4, 2010


June 3rd, 2010. On Thursday night, a tribe of braves, hot off the warpath, 2,200 miles from the sweltering, urban, sprawl of Atlanta, won the 1st of four planned battles here in Traffic Town. The Darger artillery was again stalled, putting a strain on the civil defense resources. Peacekeeping forces will be put to the test this weekend as the long war begins to stretch it's summer legs.
L is for Tonto.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010


June 2nd, 2010. In a cloudless, high-noon showdown, pitted against the same snake-eyed snipers that have been slithering around the dry grasslands of Chavez Ravine for the last two days, the Traffic Town reserves put together an astonishingly accurate recreation of the previous, tedious battle. So, the guns stayed quiet well into the late afternoon.
    The home reservists, with their ammo depot depleted, were unable to sequester an unsolicited advance from the cold-blooded, tail-chasing, reptile regiment, so the Darger regulars were called back into action. Notable exception should be taken of the new recruit, No.59, who was ultimately called on to lead the troops late in the scuffle; he finished off the Arizona enlistees with commanding diplomacy and patience.
    With the wide-eyed, straight-shooter fighting to keep the tiring Darger army on the heels of the foreign raiders, the war-storied veteran, No.9, finally deposited a well-timed mortar to secure another victory, sweeping the last snakes from the city.
W is for reptilia mortius triplicatus


June 1st, 2010. For the second day, the ongoing conflict between the transverse, desert armies turned heated, with neither side able to account for any amount of strategic headway. Both of the professional forces wrestled for control of the field with fluid and coordinated mobilization. The Darger Command ordered No.48, backed by a full regiment of career soldiers, to wreck havoc on the determined, diamondbacked insurgents .
    The young, go-getter matched battlefield bravado with his veteran  war adversary at every turn on Tuesday; not allowing a single enemy combatant to cross the 38th parallel. The ineffectiveness of the Darger cannons allowed the battle to extend beyond the usual timeline of contention, setting up yet another dramatic finish.
    The stage was set for the signature saving graces of the just recently re-deployed No.16, but the heroics belonged to Number 27 when he preemptively delivered a single, devastating cruise missile deep into the cold, coiled, heart of the Arizona defenses.
W is for Wario

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

The Artful Darger

May 31st, 2010. Through the thick, savory, smoke of Barbeque Hour, on a Memorial Day honoring the countless number of soldiers killed during the Nation's endless warring streak dating back to The War Between The States some 150 years ago, the Traffic Town food-for-powder were thrown right into the fire Monday, as Number 58 let his defenses down, and was ambushed by a hit-and-run Reptoid squad fresh from the hot, hot, borders of the Arizona sun city
    The hungry crowd that had gathered for the sun-setting showdown-  those who were not safe at home, basking in the mouth-watering rituals of Carne Asada- witnessed a wild, bamboozling, finish that was as medium-rare as it was daring! After No.99 had brought the Darger army within striking distance with an earlier bombshell over the slithering, picket-line of Arizona offenses, and some erroneous maneuvering by the slandering enemy, Number 23, bluffed a forward advance that hoodwinked the ill-hatted, enemy commander out of his snake hole. The old army game quite literally allowed No.23 to walk right through the enemy lines, and capture the victory, unhanded. 
W is for Booby Traps!