The Great Emu War

Gunner gave a grunt and slight nod from his sprawled position on the ground.

“I mean look at ‘ow much work we’ve done, were both dog tired!”

The crowd of people glanced around at the battlefield and then back at us, as if to say ‘what work?’ Clearly they had no perspective on the situation.

Everyone stood silently for a while. The dopes in the back looked confused as ever and fidgeted with their kitchen instruments, Mrs. Abbott crossed her arms and shot quick concerned looks at all parties involved, and Mr. Abbott seethed with increasing overtness.

“So you’re tellin’ me that it’s your damn job to kill these shitty emus, we set you up brilliantly to do the job, and you kill, what, five of ‘em? It’s your job you dunces, do you understand what I’m saying? You have no other reason to be here other than to get rid of these damn birds and you waste the perfect opportunity taking a crap atop a pitiful dirt mound. What, did you ‘ave a good smoke? Read a couple books?

His loosely swinging arms had come rather close to my head multiple times at the point, and he was struggling to contain his jaws, which were clearly bared.

“You have fuckin’ guns for cryin’ out loud! You two musta been the lousiest soldiers the world had ever seen, I mean, I bet you couldn’t aim better than my 4-year-old boy!”

“You wanna find out?” I shouted.

Well no, actually I must have mumbled it or something because Abbott came back with an angered “Whatcha say?” and leaned in real close as if to confront me.

“You ‘eard me!”

The next thing I felt was knuckles to my jaw, and then I was swarmed by bodies that scrambled ravenously over each other. I saw Gunner out of the corner of my eye, now sitting up and staring dumbfounded at the scuffle.