by Keith Finn
Well, the trip started as a walkabout hunt, with the guide, Brigadier Ffellowes, promising "something special." The 8 (plus the Narrator) descended into a odd valley that Ffellowes called Jurrasic Park. And so it was! We noticed an ungainly beast off to our left, and Ffellowes mentioned is was a "Steggy", and a good sized one at that.While we were taking a gander at that, that idiot Col Mustard and his bearer run off into the scrub. Ffellowes remarked "that's not a wise move," but further comment was interupted by the a rush from the right of two BIG beasts called "Allensaurs" or some such rot. FFellowes said, "Don't miss boyo's, we have a job of work here..." - but really, it didn't seem too hard, a couple of shots put the big beggers down, and down they stayed!
Looked like an enjoyable afternoon, eh? But, it seemed those shots began to draw in every begger with teeth from miles around!
Things
began happening very fast now -- and pack of man-sized toothy bastards erupted
out of the brush, and went straight for the Brigadier and Sir Argyle! They
dropped a couple, the rest were jumping all over them! In the melee the
Sergeant kicked a couple of them into the next county, but the Brigadier
took a bad bite. First aid was not needed, as Subhadar Singhel dropped the
Brigadier with a well placed head shot! (Bad show Mustard!).
Well, things deteriorated from there. With our guide dead, we didn't quite know what to expect. We could see HUGE long necked things nearby, and also in the distance, more of the "Steggy" buggers were about, and I beleive Peit Hien dropped one, having nothing better to do. That shot attracted a couple of other big chompers, in addition to a couple of packs of the little toothy guys. Piet and his bearer, Terreblanche, dropped one of the big boys and knocked down the other, but it got up and killed old Piet while he was running away. Terreblanche finshed the bastard off, but it may have unhinged the boyo based on what happened later.
In the meantime, the packs of the little bastids managed to flesh Col. Mustard and the Sergeant before running them off. Next time, someone needs to bring a shotgun! For a few monments, it was quiet. Those of us left, banded together on a small rise to regain our poise, and decided to get the hell out of this valley. Mustard and his bearer were still nubbing about in the brush (Mustard was bleeding like a stuck pig, and squealing about it as well! )
This is when Terreblanche went bonkers, I think. He jumped out and shot a huge Bronto right in the bum, no more than 50 yards away! The beast made a noise like an overheated boiler, pivots (GHU), and charged Terreblanche! We, we all opened up on him, and the Sergeant (stout fellow, but this was no place for heroics) stands shoulder to shoulder with Terreblanche to face down the beastie. We hit the bugger a half dozen times, but it stomped the Sergeant flat, and sent Terreblanch ass over teakettle into the bushes!
While we are taking all that in, That idiot Mustard pots the Bronto again, and the beastie must have had its dander up, for it went right after the daft looney. And while Mustard was dealing with the charging Bronto, two more of the damn Allensaurs charged Mustard and his bearer from behind. Well, Mustard and his bearer split off to either side of the Bronto, and the bearer (Subhadar Singhe) put two rounds into the lungs of the great beastie -- and it dropped on it's side with a moan like a foghorn.
Now that was the best thing that could have happend, since the Allensaurs decided to eat the Bronto instead of Col. Mustard. We were able to slink back to our camp, leaving behind Brigadier Fflellows, Sgt. Hager, and poor old Piet Hein. We had to carry old Mustard, he passed out from blood loss! We got a respectable "bag," but you will have to take our word on it -- there was no time for a photgraph, much less head collecting!
So, here's the tally we recalled:
Dave
Zecchini:
By
Sgt. Fitzenhiss "Flattery" Hager (Joel Sams)
There I was in Deepest Darkest Africa, on the left flank with THE Right Honorable Brigadier Ffellows (may he rest in peace). Our hunting party of eight hunter & gun bearers had been promised the biggest game in Africa. We crested a hill, then spread out in a huntersline, the sound of game muffled by the clumps of elephant grass and thickest of fern forest. Right away, two big ones popped up and lumbered parallel to the line, shots rung out, down they went.
"How hard can this be?" we thought, "Walk in the park" were some other comments. Those were "medium sized" our guide warned us. We scoffed, patted our big guns, winks and nudges were exchanged. There and then, a pack of small scrffians broke from the grassland and charge us. The Brigadier fired BLAM! I fired BLAM! More came out of the grassy mounds and it was then and there that Brigadier Ffellows sidestepped, spun and kicked the small dino, just like he was on the rugby pitch at Cambridge. Good show, I thought! I will give it a try. Sure enough, it worked and all the Brigadier had to show was a nasty scratch from his left hip to his right clavicle, but he soldiered on till a stray shot dropped him. He went down like a Calcutta whore. Tough luck there, I say!
I have to admit I was in shock, traumatized even, could have used a good cup of tea right then and there! Thirty seconds later, after the grieving process was over, I pushed on, thanks to the sound of a charging Brontosaurus -- very distinct, I must say. Sure enough, a native gun bearer, Ramallama Dhingdhon, was in the path of the behemoth and I had just perfected, or so I thought, Dino-jujitsu. I ran forward, shot,BLAM! Then, I prepared to subdue the reptile with skill and grace. Bugger ran right over me, left me with a wrinkled gun jacket, and toenail prints on up and down my chest. Luckily, quick-thinking Ramallama folded me up like a map, put me in his ruck sack and carried me onward to base camp. There I was hustled off to a runner who got me to a South African postmaster for the mail home. There Mrs. Hager, good shes-er, hung me like wallpaper in the Trophy room...
