Hot Pockets and Flaming Two-by-Fours do not a Gangwar Make

By Kevin, Rialto, Jon (written: 4/27/2008)

Gripping steel, Piotre glared over the placid waters reflecting the city skyline, and shed a tear into the dark shallows. His accomplice, Hammerdang, was sick and tired of Piotre’s glaring and angrily threw a homemade hot pocket into the microwave.

“You fool!” shrieked Piotre, “The appliances are rigged, hit the deck!”

Shrapnel, fire, and broccoli covered cheese bits rained down as they dove out into the waters. Hammerdang, obviously stupid, and righteously pissed about the demise of his homemade hotpocket, glowering, threw another hot pocket into the microwave.

“Death pockets,” muttered Piotre, as his pistol sentenced Hammerdang to a twenty-five cents execution.

Unbeknownst to Piotre, as Hammerdang’s blood pooled on the cold planks of the docks, the Mullfist gang surrounded the warehouse. The leader of the Mullfist Gang, Wrenchdang, saw Hammerdang’s corpse and screamed, “That’s my brother from the same mother!”

Enraged, and equally smart as his brother, Wrenchdang threw a hot pocket into the nearest microwave, offing all Mullfists but him. A look of insanity flitted briefly across Piotre’s face as he took hold of a burning two by four and charged Wrenchdang. Wrenchdang, unaccustomed to fire and rectangular pieces of wood, didn’t quite know what was going on, and broke into tears. Piotre, unaccustomed to gang rivals breaking into tears over flaming two by fours, dropped the blazing timber and tossed a hot pocket into the nearest microwave.

“Is that broccoli and cheese?” asked Wrenchdang, sobbing.

Piotre smiled, as he handed half to Wrenchdang. “Let’s never fight again.”