We ran out of gas and I blame Cleo--she was driving. We were Peace Core volunteers headed for the village of Yana in the Solange providence. All we had were two canteens and a cooler full of Klondike bars.
Figure something out, she said. You're the guy. I got out and looked around. All desert in all directions. Then I saw movement. One of the cacti seemed to turn toward us and before I could react, it shot a laser beam right at my shoulder. I doubled over in pain and screamed, scrambling back to the Jeep.
Suddenly we got hit from all sides by beams as more cacti joined in the attack. I tried reasoning with them through the window to no avail. That's when Cleo opened up on them with an automatic rifle, blowing the bastards to bits. Cleo was from Texas.
We were still out of gas in the middle of nowhere, but I knew I'd come up with something. After all, I was the guy here.
Let's have a Klondike bar first, I said.
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