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Mikabo vs. Withering Boon





Day #1:

Withering Boon and Mikabo stepped into the same country, that being the one over there. Yes, that one. You know what country I'm talking about. Yes, exactly, that one.

They walked up to eachother trying to keep sportsman like faces. The sun was at it's zenith and the ground was begining to get hot. The intense heat caused Mikabo to prespire. Withering Boon was unaffected by the heat for no reason. When they finally reached each other in the middle of the wasteland desert they reached out their hands. They shook. That was it. A silent agreement with one motion that binded them to a contract: The one who was still alive would be known as the almighty, the conquorer, the best, and the one whom all would bow to. The greatest stakes of all in single raising and lowering of the hand. The battle had officially started.



Mikabo drew back low while slinging his gun forward. He cocked the gun with one hand while wiping the sweat out of his eyes with the other. Withering Boon darted back and forth searching vigorously for a boulder to place her small knobby foot on. Mikabo raised his gun, ready to fire, and lined the sight with the crotchular goatee dangling from Withering Boon. His finger began to tighten on the trigger. The anticipation of the click consumed all of Mikabo's thoughts and plagued Withering Boon's. All she needed was a rock, any rock, and the fight would be even. Where is a rock?



No rock would provide sanction for the boon.

*Click*

A teem a bullets sprung forth in a perfect line toward the goatee with sonic speed. An instant went by. The bullets reached Withering Boon. She gasped, sucking all the air around into her lungs, bringing her belly in, and her waist up. The goatee lifted just an inch or two. Every one of the zipping bullets flew by and dug deep into the clay dirt behind Withering Boon.

She turned around to see where the bullets had gone. Ten feet past the site of bullet chaos was a rock. Not a very large rock, but still, a rock. Withering Boon's head swiveled on her skinny neck while her eyes squinted in the blinding sun. Mikabo was reading the gun again. With instant change from still to sprinting she darted to the rock and placed her foot on the rock and her other foot behind her, making her bow legged.



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©2000 Mike Craytor Enterprises, Ltd.
All information relatively true as of June 6, 2000.