Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Steel is No Comfort When Winter Comes

The massive figure loomed over the sales counter, clad in blood-red armor and wearing a horned helm.  Nearby, two hitherto polite middle-aged ladies erupted into a vicious screaming match, struggling over a clearance sweater.

Something thudded to the countertop: a fleece-lined winter coat.  A mailed hand tapped the garment, then slammed into the steel-plated chest.

"Fitting rooms are th-th-there," Beth stammered, pointing. 

The figure stomped away.

"Was that War?" asked Vicki.

"Can't be," said John.  "War... war never changes."

There was a rustle from the fitting rooms, then a contented sigh.

"It must be War," said Beth.  "He was cold..."

2 comments:

Loren Eaton said...

"War... war never changes."

I'm guessing that someone's a fan of Fallout.

Nathaniel Lee said...

That line is just instinctive. (I had to reboot a lot in those days, so that opening played entirely too often.)

If I'd had more space, I'd have gotten in a "What is he good for?" too...