Solar Joint Stories: The Tale of The Duelling Rods

Soldier by Day, Rat-Rod Racer by Night...

There’s a time-honored tradition in the solar joint Doc’s Oasis; the toast. Only it isn’t your normal well-wishing over a tall class of amber-colored ale. The toast is a time to tell stories. To rant, to rave, to regale. Talk of grand triumphs and complete failures. All unfiltered, and all in the company of friends. This is one of those stories.

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Y’know, the bastards who race for blood are some of the toughest. I should know; always takes two shots to do ‘em in.

Name’s Rod. Yeah, that one. But hey, Guys; during the day, I go to school just like the rest of us, Principal Godred making sure we’re all fit to fight and ride. I’m a crack shot, I do as I told, I rock the battlefield as good as anyone. Can’t let the head honcho down after all, not when that digital dyke out west is shipping loads of them pussies she calls “soldiers.” Haven’t cracked the broadside of the barn with them lil’ ol’ peashooters of theirs.

Told a couple of ya cats this one, but hell, for old time’s sake, anyone here remember that one duel? The asshat in the red Corvette?

Anyone? Buncha green sonsofa out ‘ere tonight, huh? Well I—aha! Those folks in the back there get it! Bitchin’.