Rambo: 1812 - Chapter 1

Rambo: 1812

         Night fell. Rambo quickly ran across the treacherous rope bridge into the domain of the enemy. It was July 24, 1812. Rambo had just been assigned to rescue a prisoner of war from behind enemy lines. Highly guarded enemy lines. After crossing the bridge, he immediately cut it with his knife, ensuring that no enemies could cross that river again. As he began crossing the snowy tundra, a light appeared. Quickly, he ducked under the cover of a nearby snowman. A British-Canadian sentry was approaching. Their scent dogs, a couple of French poodles, starting barking excitedly! Rambo tensed up on his AK-47, which he loved dearly and carried everywhere he went, as the dogs kept yapping. The guards attended to them with dog biscuits, and when they wouldn’t shut up, finally looked over in the area the dogs were pointing. As the guards continued approaching, Rambo prepared to strike; however, they passed by his hiding place and walked towards a small log cabin, with a stately chimney, and a circle of flamingos surrounding it. Finally, they left the area. Rambo was just about to leave when he remembered that the prisoner was being held in a log cabin, very similar in description to the one before him. With this in mind, he snuck out from behind the snowman and started crawling towards the house. After being pelted by fifteen snowballs from the annoying kids who lived next door to the cabin, he finally got up and walked over. Knocking on the door, no response came. Another sentry was approaching! He kicked the door in, with a flying roundhouse, and dashed inside. An elderly woman sat, doing some knitting.
         “Yo, old lady, I’m stayin’ here” he informed her, with no small amount of rudeness.
         “What?” the elderly woman replied.
         “YO! Old lady, I’m hidin from a sentry that wants to kill me!”
         “What?”
         “… I’ve come to fix your TV. Where is it?”
         “Oh! I’ve been waiting 6 weeks, sonny. It’s over there, in the corner.”
         Rambo walked to the TV. There was a pair of knitting needles jabbed directly into the center of the screen, thus cracking the glass.
         “Ma’am, this television is kaput. I can’t do anything for it.”
         “Oh? Well, that’s too bad. I guess I’ll just have to use my old one.”          
         As she said this, she pressed a button on the yarn-stick she was holding. A 44” flat-screen plasma TV appeared from the ceiling and hurtled towards Rambo’s head! Fortunately, his advanced military discipline gave him the superior reflexes he needed, and he backwards three inches. Just as he thought he was safe, the woman spoke.
         “Let’s watch some soap operas!”
         Rambo, in abject horror, fell back on his bottom.
         “Auuughh!” he screamed. “My training never prepared me for this!”
         “Now, let’s see. How about some ‘As the Sphere of This Planet Revolves and We Are Illuminated by a Very Tall Building with a Big Effin Light in It’?”
         “Ma’am, such language … I can’t … soap opera … uggh.”
         Rambo thought back to when he accepted the mission. From the briefing, it sounded easy. Go in, kill some guys, rescue one, kill some more guys, and leave. Never once were old ladies with knitting, TVs, and soap operas mentioned. Presently, the soap began.
         “Oh Fred! I can’t believe you’d leave me for the wife of the man who kissed my first uncle’s niece’s mother on her first birthday after eating carrots for his sister’s priest who is really a waste management CEO with an enormous fortune of rhubarbs!”
         “No, it is not so! I left you for the great-aunt of my brother’s barber’s CIA tail, who nobody knew was a spy until we found his pet orangutan in the beach house at Malibu, where he was secretly singing at a coffee house with my fifth cousin’s roommate’s mother-in-law”
         “But-”
         “I can’t take this!” Rambo screamed.
         “Hush now, it’s getting to the good part!”
         Suddenly, a gust blew the door open! But, it was no gust, but in fact, Batman!
         “I’m Batman!” he yelled, hoarsely.
         “Save me!” Rambo yelled.
         Quickly, Batman reached for his utility belt and pulled out a pair of titanium knitting needles.
         “My dear woman,” he began. “I find that titanium works better to maintain a good static charge in the yarn. Here, try these.”
         She began knitting up a storm. As she was distracted, Batman and Rambo snuck out of the house.
         “Now, Mr. Rambo, that we are out of that mess, I would like to ask you a very important question.” He pulled out two spools of yellow yarn. “Which yellow would make a better insignia? Sunrise yellow, or Lander yellow?”
         “Are you insane?!? Who knits at a time like this? It’s a war! You know, with the bang-bang, no knitting allowed, serious business? I’m leaving. Thank you for the rescue, but I have someone to save.”
         “But that person is in the cabin we just left.”
         Rambo shuddered, repressing his urge to fly off the handle, and crumple the little ears on Batman’s mask-thing. Clearly, the Secretary of the Navy wasn’t kidding when he told Rambo that the mission would be “super horrible, awful, nasty, cold, and just a touch distasteful.”