Thursday, November 10, 2016

Wealthy White Male opens a can of Whoop-Ass

Image result for stabbing
Image result for hagia sophia entranceNow me must travel to a land with the same name as my sixth favorite protein (Pork, Crustacean, Chicken, Beef, Venison, Turkey). I say we must because my whole life has led up to the moment I entered the land of Turkey. I met this woman online, her name is Berna. Berna is the most beautiful woman. I’ve never actually spoke to her but we’re friends on instagram. We connected and she told me to transfer 125000 Turkish Lira (35000 USD) to her and meet her at the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul. 35k is a drop in the bucket and I didn’t think much of it. I met her at the entrance of Hagia Sophia.

The Hagia Sophia was quite beautiful, I visited the museum which cost 40 Lira. Dingbang would've recieved free access, as he is only 9. The Byzantine architecture was astonishing. Constructed in 537, it has a rich history as a basilica, a mosque, a basilica again, a mosque again, then a museum. It is currently a museum. While I was waiting, I got some Uzbek Pilaf, a traditional rice and lamb dish. Simply exquisite. The Turks know how to cook, lemme tell ya.

 I waited for about an hour, but she never came. As I walked back to the hotel I heard a gunshot and a basket just near me exploded, so I ran. More gunshots followed and I found Popo and Dingbang tied to chairs in our hotel room. A man creeped out from the bathroom with a gun in hand. He introduced himself as Berna Vago, a hitman from Izmir tasked with killing me after stealing much of my fortune. That’s all he got out before I pulled out my emergency knife and stabbed him. I stabbed him quickly in chest whilst I grabbed the gun from his hand, expelled the magazine and and hit Berna swiftly upside the head with it. He was very surprised at my speed and agility when threatened with death. Berna was not the most beautiful woman, he was just a hitman who wasn’t very good at his job. I suspect he thought I would be an easy mark, but my lack of emotional stress gave me the distinct advantage of being in full control of my body and mind. Stabbing that man felt real good. Unfortunately, there were more incompetent hitmen running up the stairs to the 4th floor where we were. Dingbang fashioned a rope from Popos quilt collection while Popo and I defended the doorway with knife and gun, tooth and nail. We held the door shut tightly but one bullet managed to split the grain of the hardwood, penetrating the skin of my ankle. It hurt like a mother trucker, but the pain only fueled my strength. I tore the granite counter from the kitchen cupboards and ordered Popester to open the door on three. He obliged and he flung the door open and I hurled the massive chunk at the men. I suspect they were crushed. The silence didn’t last long and the pounding soon returned. Dingbang tied the quilted rope to window AC unit and informed us of his completion. I told Dingbang to slowly exit the building and wait for us in our van in the east lot. As I spoke, the hitmen overpowered us for a moment, allowing time to toss a pipe bomb into the room and run. (cue the slow motion) Popo and I immediately ran to the open window, arms flailing, gunshots poured through the now open door, as the hitmen backed up to the stairs at the end of the corridor. Popo’s fear of heights almost got the best of him, but I got him to leave the window sill as the time bomb ticked at 15 seconds. Popo wept as he slowly crept down the fabric like a spider. He wasn’t going fast enough for me to follow him. The bomb was at 5 seconds, a bead of sweat fell from my brow, I had noticed an awning to the right of me, just one floor down. Without hesitation I lept like a squirrel and clung to the side of the awning. The bomb set a blaze of glory flying through the window behind me. My level of mass was too much for the Turkish awning, and one side snapped, and I was left dangling from a swinging awning three stories up. I clambered onto the window sill of a third floor room. I elbowed the glass and shattered both the window and my bone. I bloodily slithered into the dark room to find a German couple scoodlypooping. I asked the naked man “Hast du eine pistole?” He did have a gun. I rushed into the lobby a mess, the front desk flooded with guests asking about the loud noise on the 4th floor. I spotted one of Bernas henchmen and popped him square in the tushy, incapacitating him. I joined my friends in the van and we drove to the airport. We didn’t want to risk spending any extra time in a Turkish hospital. Image result for van



1 comment:

  1. That's quite the adventure Scott. What did you think of Turkey? Hagia Sophia? People? Food? law system? I would love to see some touristy photos you took (or probably Popo took).

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