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Himself v.s the Army of Darkness Pt.1

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Just a little something fun scribbled up in a spare hour this morning... this forum has convinced me to start writing again, if only to show you fuckheads how it should be done ;)

Might write the concluding part later if people like it.

The ground shook.

It was dark inside the burrow. The swinging green methane lamps cast a pale glow over the assorted mish-mash of possessions and relics. They were strewn haphazardly all over the floor.

A Leprechaun casts his short shadow over his gun cabinet. He giggles insanely whist loading his rather large shotgun. His trembling fingers inserted the shells slowly, the hollow noises of pre-tense death lost amongst the rattling and trembling of the burrow.

“You bastards will get yours… kekekekekeke…”

The final shell loaded, he shucked shack and slung the weapon over his shoulder. Hurriedly, he skipped out of the room, slaloming between the paraphernalia and trash all over his burrow. Down the crumbling corridor our hero went, accompanied as always by the earth-shaking BOOM BOOM of his next-door neighbor’s stereo system.

The red and weary eyes of the Leprechaun search his chambers for yet more structural damage. The earthen walls have caved in here and there, the already unsound construction collapsing under the sonic bombardment from next door, which was now well into it’s third day. He finds his TV, video and pornography collection crushed beneath his living room wall.

This does not improve his temper.

His only other stop on the way out is to collect his Battle Hat, which was a tall pointed and wide brimmed affair. He felt the soft fabric and he felt the foot-long stainless steel spike concealed beneath. For the first time since this whole stereo business began, his cracked lips split into a horrible yellow smile.

Bucking his hat to his head and stuffing more shells into some bodily crevice that is best not guessed at, the Leprechaun exits his burrow to make a social call next door.


Next door’s door was made of fairly solid oak, wrought cunningly with curses and hung with a giant brass knocking knob.

Someone outside rapped the door twice politely before blowing the damn thing clean off it’s rusty hinges. The colossal boom of the twenty-four-gauge shotgun was felt as a minor tremor in China.

Assured it got the occupants attention.

The smoke eventually cleared a little and the tapering silhouette of the Leprechaun was seen striding across the portal, shucking the shotgun and screeching above the music;


The fuckpipes in question did not form a line, but rather stared in horror at their ruined porch. One particular individual pointed at the Leprechaun’s feet and shouted, “Ere, ‘e went and shot Colin!”

The Leprechaun followed the finger down and saw a pair of brown two-toed feet poking out from beneath the ruined door and became aware that something was horribly, horribly wrong.

Visibility returned to the burrow, the smoke having the good decency to completely dissipate at that precise moment for dramatic effect.

Brown and pink and naked they were, minging mockeries of men and beast. Demons of the pit, all scales and fangs, and scales with fangs, and fang shaped scales and things of that nature. Horrible, nasty, bad tempered and grooving on down in his next-door neighbor’s lounge.

The Leprechaun swallowed hard. He was aware that he may of started a cross dimensional war between the Army of Darkness and the Army of… well, Himself.

Behind the line of gawking demons was a mighty stereo, with speakers seven foot high and pulsing obscenely with the massively phat beats. Naked golden gravings covered the blood red system, finished with a reasonably sweet LCD readout, you know, with those cool little bars going up and down in time to the music and the title of the song scrolling along the bottom…

Behind Satan’s CD player was something of yet even more horrible magnificence. A portal, set in stone and framing the flaming visage of Hell itself. And in the middle of that portal, surrounded by fire and burning corpses, stood the Cyberdemon, a grotesque pix-and-mix of Minotaur and Terminator (the good one, not T3. It’s important we get the right mental image here). It looked displeased.

“Who the fuck are you?”

The Leprechaun croaked, turned and fled as fast as his little leggies would carry him.


In the knowledge that the Apocalypse was upon him, the Leprechaun decided to follow the precedent of the past and do what it is all upstanding citizens duty to do in such days. Make the best of a bad situation, etcetera.

The front of his 1969 Chevy burst through the front of the underground off-license with no particular difficulty, having overseen the reinforcement of the chassis himself and performed many, many, hit and runs without damage to the front of the car. The window rolled down and a grubby hand poked forth and flinched a goodly quantity of whisky from the selves. When the expected hail of bullets did not materialize from behind the counter, the Leprechaun’s hand risked a crate of beer and a few packets of crisps.

Normally by now the car would be a smoking mass of holes and 9mm Uzi ammunition, and once again the Leprechaun realized that something was very wrong.

Exiting the car, there was no sign of the store’s owner. A quick check under the wheels turned up negative. Crunching through the broken glass, the Leprechaun rung up No Sale on the till and was disturbed to see vast dirty wodges of cash still within.

As he finished pocketing the small change, the Leprechaun decided to follow suite and leave town ASAP. Satan had moved in next door, someone had abandoned shop and left several thousand liters of hard liquor and about a grand in cash in the till (unthinkable!) and he hadn’t seen a living soul all day. Time to up and leave hethinks. And that’s just what he would of done, if a pair of cold, clammy hands hadn’t clasped onto his neck first...

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Ok, nice descriptions and stuff, but this story is pretty damn confusing imo.

Care to explain what in the nine blue fucks of Hell is going on here?

Maybe I'll have to read through it a couple times more - I'll do that later.

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Weeeeeeell... it was an attempt to write something amusing without big sucky chunks of background information, trying to get the information you need into the story rather than making you hack through about 400 words of essay bull.

Maybe I fail it.

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darknation said:

Weeeeeeell... it was an attempt to write something amusing without big sucky chunks of background information, trying to get the information you need into the story rather than making you hack through about 400 words of essay bull.

Maybe I fail it.

Or maybe I do ;-)

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