Day One Hundred Twenty Seven:
We taped the entire box of matches with the match head part facing down to the inside of the front door. Taped the match box strike panel for the matches on the ground right behind them. Then we spent at least an hour taping all of the nails to both of the propane tanks. Some were strips with the nails facing out all pointy like, some were flat since... neither of us were really sure how explosion science works.
All that was left was to set the timer on the clock, turn the valve for each propane tank, open the front door a little bit, and run like hell.
We ran as quickly and as quietly as we could for seven minutes and six seconds (get it?) before we heard the explosion. My only regret is that I'll never know how many of them we killed, or stomp on the heads of the ones still alive. But I decided to believe that we got the one that got AJ.
My hope now is that the ones that weren't blown to hell will be too interested in eating their nail fried friends to worry about tracking down the two of us. Hey, maybe some of them will choke to death on the nails! I hadn't thought of that till just now. Here's to hoping.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Day One Hundred Twenty Six:
Day One Hundred Twenty Six:
Josh came up with a plan that might help us escape, while at the same time be a nice send off for AJ.
The main drawback to this plan is, we're going to have to tear ass out of here once the plan is set in motion and then hope to God we are able to track down something edible in the next couple days. Our supplies are meager at best, but it is what it is. We could try the silent approach but, sometimes to quote the late great Kurt Russel, "Son of a bitch must pay".
So tonight will be our last night here. Our plan is as follows:
One old fashioned wind up alarm clock.
One box of strike top matches.
One roll of duct tape.
Three boxes of carpenter nails.
Two propane tanks.
One severely damaged soul that will be laughing the entire time while we run away from a pile of smoldering corpses.
Fuck you Ex-humes. Fuck you very much.
Josh came up with a plan that might help us escape, while at the same time be a nice send off for AJ.
The main drawback to this plan is, we're going to have to tear ass out of here once the plan is set in motion and then hope to God we are able to track down something edible in the next couple days. Our supplies are meager at best, but it is what it is. We could try the silent approach but, sometimes to quote the late great Kurt Russel, "Son of a bitch must pay".
So tonight will be our last night here. Our plan is as follows:
One old fashioned wind up alarm clock.
One box of strike top matches.
One roll of duct tape.
Three boxes of carpenter nails.
Two propane tanks.
One severely damaged soul that will be laughing the entire time while we run away from a pile of smoldering corpses.
Fuck you Ex-humes. Fuck you very much.
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