Don't Eat the Red Snow
Predator Press
[LOBO]
"You realize," says Max, arcing his lightsaber gracefully, making the 'hyms' and 'hums' with the blue beam, "George Lucas is going to sue the hell out of us."
"I wonder if they work though?" replies Brighta. With this, Brighta lashed his red beam into Max's. Then, spinning, he delivered a second.
Max, caught wholly off guard, watched in horror as his left hand fell to the ground.
Twitching.
"You dick!" Max screamed.
"Why didn't you block?" Brighta defended.
"No lightsabers!"
"Okay fine." Closing his eyes, Brighta made his third and final wish.
And where Max's amputated hand was once attached, a chrome, high-tech Gatling gun grew from his forearm.
Max goggles. "Cool!"
"Now let's do this thing," Brighta nods, coolly clipping his glowing lightcycle helmet on. "Before Vetter drinks all the booze."
"You realize," says Max, arcing his lightsaber gracefully, making the 'hyms' and 'hums' with the blue beam, "George Lucas is going to sue the hell out of us."
"I wonder if they work though?" replies Brighta. With this, Brighta lashed his red beam into Max's. Then, spinning, he delivered a second.
Max, caught wholly off guard, watched in horror as his left hand fell to the ground.
Twitching.
"You dick!" Max screamed.
"Why didn't you block?" Brighta defended.
"No lightsabers!"
"Okay fine." Closing his eyes, Brighta made his third and final wish.
And where Max's amputated hand was once attached, a chrome, high-tech Gatling gun grew from his forearm.
Max goggles. "Cool!"
"Now let's do this thing," Brighta nods, coolly clipping his glowing lightcycle helmet on. "Before Vetter drinks all the booze."
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