The "Freeola Customer Forum" forum, which includes Retro Game Reviews, has been archived and is now read-only. You cannot post here or create a new thread or review on this forum.
I feel the cool breeze brush against my vulnerable, exposed face.
I clutch the gun in my hands, finger glued permenantly to the trigger.
I look around and see 20 or so other men, looking into the distance.
The warning siren screams, the sound resounding through the ghost town.
They are coming.
I look back in my mind, searching for a time when we were not at war.
We have always been at war.
I don't know how to fight, how to kill.
But I am here, holding this weapon.
Because it is the male citizens responsibility to defend his country.
They are coming.
I think of my wife and three children, hiding in village a few miles north of here.
I will fight, for them, not for my country.
Not for that tyrant Saddam. That mad-man, mega-lo-maniac, self-appointed blood-brother to God.
I hear the sound of gun-fire in the distance, and the sound of men gibbering near me.
They are here.
I clutch the gun in my hands, finger glued permenantly to the trigger.
I look around and see 20 or so other men, looking into the distance.
The warning siren screams, the sound resounding through the ghost town.
They are coming.
I look back in my mind, searching for a time when we were not at war.
We have always been at war.
I don't know how to fight, how to kill.
But I am here, holding this weapon.
Because it is the male citizens responsibility to defend his country.
They are coming.
I think of my wife and three children, hiding in village a few miles north of here.
I will fight, for them, not for my country.
Not for that tyrant Saddam. That mad-man, mega-lo-maniac, self-appointed blood-brother to God.
I hear the sound of gun-fire in the distance, and the sound of men gibbering near me.
They are here.
thanks.
Hehe, you said gibbering!
good, like it
I'm off to watch Frasier.
I feel the cool breeze brush against my vulnerable, exposed face.
I clutch the gun in my hands, finger glued permenantly to the trigger.
I look around and see 20 or so other men, looking into the distance.
The warning siren screams, the sound resounding through the ghost town.
They are coming.
I look back in my mind, searching for a time when we were not at war.
We have always been at war.
I don't know how to fight, how to kill.
But I am here, holding this weapon.
Because it is the male citizens responsibility to defend his country.
They are coming.
I think of my wife and three children, hiding in village a few miles north of here.
I will fight, for them, not for my country.
Not for that tyrant Saddam. That mad-man, mega-lo-maniac, self-appointed blood-brother to God.
I hear the sound of gun-fire in the distance, and the sound of men gibbering near me.
They are here.
I clutch the gun in my hands, finger glued permenantly to the trigger.
I look around and see 20 or so other men, looking into the distance.
The warning siren screams, the sound resounding through the ghost town.
They are coming.
I look back in my mind, searching for a time when we were not at war.
We have always been at war.
I don't know how to fight, how to kill.
But I am here, holding this weapon.
Because it is the male citizens responsibility to defend his country.
They are coming.
I think of my wife and three children, hiding in village a few miles north of here.
I will fight, for them, not for my country.
Not for that tyrant Saddam. That mad-man, mega-lo-maniac, self-appointed blood-brother to God.
I hear the sound of gun-fire in the distance, and the sound of men gibbering near me.
They are here.