Comments on: Fire in the Hole, from A to Z

Fire in the Hole, from A to Z

miss lynnster — Mon, 02 Apr 2007 10:25:52 -0800

Army men as alphabet (Warning: serious plastic army men carnage).

By: miss lynnster

miss lynnster — Mon, 02 Apr 2007 10:26:31 -0800

I searched & it didn't seem to be a double. If it is, I'm sure you'll tell me. :)

By: Mister_A

Mister_A — Mon, 02 Apr 2007 10:30:03 -0800

It's really disturbing and fun! To quote Dr. Johnson, "It is not done well; but you are surprised to find it done at all."

By: unSane

unSane — Mon, 02 Apr 2007 10:39:01 -0800

Now it needs to be a font.

By: serazin

serazin — Mon, 02 Apr 2007 10:43:37 -0800

I like 'N' best. It's like he's calling back to base saying "All that's left of Jim is his leg, and it's sticking straight up out of the ground."

By: Terminal Verbosity

Terminal Verbosity — Mon, 02 Apr 2007 10:45:12 -0800

I'm not crazy about J, Q or U, but that is disturbingly fun. In my personal hell, legions of G.I. Joes will be waiting, armed with cans of Aqua Net and butane lighters.

By: Drexen

Drexen — Mon, 02 Apr 2007 10:57:29 -0800

Somehow, that's kinda poignant! .. and funny. Barbelith on Barbie mutilation. Melted soldier bowl.

By: OmieWise

OmieWise — Mon, 02 Apr 2007 11:02:01 -0800

Excellent. (The melted bowl, too.)

By: Alvy Ampersand

Alvy Ampersand — Mon, 02 Apr 2007 11:05:57 -0800

Hee, very cute! This brings back fond memories of shooting little green men to bits with an air pistol in my parents unfinished basement. "Decapitation By .177 Wadcutter" is a tricky shot to pull off; it's even harder when you're trying to dodge ricocheting bits of lead wildly caroming off concrete walls while your mom yells down the stairs to knock it the hell off and go outside if you want to blind yourself, you little weirdo. Good times.

By: grapefruitmoon

grapefruitmoon — Mon, 02 Apr 2007 11:24:24 -0800

A+++ WOULD CLICK AGAIN.

By: the dief

the dief — Mon, 02 Apr 2007 11:39:03 -0800

If only I had been as imaginative as this as a kid with my army men. Instead I had to settle for watching a buddy of mine repeatedly throw a poseable action figure against a wall until his arms and legs left his torso.

By: Dizzy

Dizzy — Mon, 02 Apr 2007 11:54:19 -0800

I heard they're making amazing advances in the field of wounded-plastic-army-men prosthetics.

By: OmieWise

OmieWise — Mon, 02 Apr 2007 12:11:34 -0800

They are, but they're housed in virtually unlivable conditions during their convalescence and therapy.

By: Mayor Curley

Mayor Curley — Mon, 02 Apr 2007 12:13:06 -0800

I used to like to do this sort of thing on Sunday afternoons in the summer. You can graft another set of arms to the officer holding the pistol, and you can melt a neat hole in the chest of nearly any army man and pretend that it's the work of an alien's raygun and the soldier is still alive despite having what would be a softball-sized hole through his torso.

By: srboisvert

srboisvert — Mon, 02 Apr 2007 12:27:30 -0800

My men were wiped out by a truly apocalyptic weapon in the heavy foliage. This despite having the strategic advantage of time to entrench, camouflage and superior numbers. Every man but me lost. The entire unit. It was a sunny humid day. No sign of bad guys. HQ ordered us to hunker down and set an ambush. We had a proper perimeter. Scouts deployed. Everything seemed good. We were doing what soldiers always do. Killing time. Slaughtering time with stories of where we were from, where we go and the women we pretended either to have slept with or would have a chance to sleep with. That's when we heard it. A giant roar. Wind picked up. We couldn't see anything through the foliage but the wild life was fleeing and wind was picking up. I seemed to come from every direction at once. The roaring got louder and louder and the wind got faster. I threw myself to the ground in a sniper position just as the sky went dark. I closed my eyes and prepared to meet the man who poured my plastic into the mould. Then just as quick as it had started it was gone. With it went the tops of all the foliage and the heads of every single member of my unit. I lost it. I couldn't move. I just lay there not moving. One week later I was still there and it happened again. I stayed in the wild for the entire summer before search and rescue found me. I reported the details of the weekly attacks of the enemy uber-weapon to HQ I had codenamed: Lawnmower.

By: Burhanistan

Burhanistan — Mon, 02 Apr 2007 13:13:18 -0800

I remember the fist time I shot a GI Joe with a BB gun. It was the original "Roadblock". I shot his hand clean off. Looking at the disfigured soldier somehow evoked a sense of remorse in me. After a few days of guilt for attacking a brave hero, I learned to put duty before conscience and shot his head off at medium range. Then, killing GI Joes became easy.

By: hippugeek

hippugeek — Mon, 02 Apr 2007 17:36:47 -0800

Looking at the disfigured soldier somehow evoked a sense of remorse in me. I know what you mean. A friend and I spent hours mutilating a bunch of toy soldiers for an anti-war thing a few years back. Snipping parts off with nail clippers, melting, twisting limbs... After a while it got more than a little distressing, the intentionality of our cruelty, even if it was directed at little plastic dudes. This is great, miss lynnster. I like ideas that balance clever and disturbing.

By: ColdChef

ColdChef — Tue, 03 Apr 2007 15:06:00 -0800

My GI Joe was a lucky man. Always getting to kiss and rub against the naked dolls that my sisters never knew were missing.