Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Bitter and Sweet (05/28/09)
TITLE: Make Food Not War
By Janeil Harricharan
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I leapt out of the Humvee as muffins exploded all around us. F-22 launching French bread missiles roared overhead as Jackson got my six and Long came out behind.
The invasion of Sauerkraut had begun. Declaring themselves the monopolizing country of most Europe-related main meals, they couldn’t be allowed to continue as they wished. Their leverage for their threat was that they held the Head Cook Duke of the Isles of Biscuits.
The Humvee drove off as I shouldered my M-16 and dove for cover as another muffin exploded nearby. Bits of pastry spattered the area as I caught sight of a cake bunker nearby.
“Jelly beans aren’t going to cut it, sir,” Jackson told me.
He was right. .556 caliber jelly beans were fast, far and true, but had their limitations. They weren’t going to go through cake.
“You and Long go find our boys. I’ll get the VIP out of here!” I ordered.
Long nodded, confirming my words in her Oriental gaze before dashing off with Jackson. I sneaked past the bunker and into the embassy building a hundred feet away and vaulted through a window.
Several bakers whirled around as I opened fire. Jelly beans flew past me as I peppered one that started to shoulder a rocket pineapple grenade. His comrades scattered as I pulled the fuse off an orange and tossed it down the hall and ran up the stairs before citrus juice sent the poor slobs to oblivion.
Surprisingly the top floor was empty, with no resistance. Motion scanner showed that there were several people in one room as I shouldered the rifle and pulled out my 9mm Beretta pistol. I kicked the door open.
There was one guard, who turned around as I lurched forward, grabbing his neck in one swift motion. He fell to the floor as I pushed the pistol in his mouth and fired. He gurgled as the sugar swirled around in his mouth as purple and green food coloring dripped from the sides.
“You guys okay?” I asked.
“Youza wastes a good foodz,” An old chef yelled, a heavy Italian accent.
“No time for that, we’re at war.” I got on the radio. “Viper, this is niner niner three Charlie! I have the VIP’s! Rest of my squad is rescuing POW’s from the embassy.”
I handed my pistol to the VIP and lead the way down the stairs, once more bringing my rifle to bear. I told them to stop as I dashed to the side of the door, making sure that there wasn’t anything on the other side.
I could see the Blackhawk approaching. This might be easier than I thought…
I was proven wrong. A hail of couscous and kamut peppered the sand in front of me from a Soviet Hind Helicopter.
I recognized the symbol on the side from the Mediterranean Free Bakers Guild. Leftover cooks from Cartighinian troops that served with Hannibal, they swore to defend all order of structured laws for food. That included laws placed by NATO or the UN…
“Sir, the drop zone is hot, I can’t land. We’ll have to pull back!”
“Guys, I need backup, where are you?!”
“Long’s on her way, sir! I’ve armed the POW’s and we’re heading to an alternate extraction point!” Jackson replied on my radio.
I popped around the corner and started pouring jelly beans into the hull. It had little or no effect as couscous and hardened kamut made Swiss cheese out of the fresco wall we were taking cover behind.
“Don’t you know to always look around and improvise?” Long yelled, running up from the kitchen. She had the RPG that she scavenged off the downed fighter, and dropped to one knee and promptly fired it off.
“Make your approach now! I don’t know if we’ll get more nasty company!”
The pineapple sent the Hind reeling as fragments entered its engine intake, causing it to fail. It banked away to limp to base as the Blackhawk touched down on the desert sand. I motioned for everyone to board the chopper as I stayed on the ground, eyeing for anymore threats.
Once everyone was on board, I jumped on as the Blackhawk lifted off into the sky. Now that the VIP was safe, the next plan was to shell, bomb, and attack the rebellious country with heavy breads, GPS guided squash, and if necessary, spices of mass destruction. Progress had been made today.
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