KISS MY TANK GUN

         

Kiss My Tank Gun



Early afternoon the hour, the scene was normal far as conflict went. Straddling the roadway a bus set as a road block.

Elsewhere a lady wore a pleasant disposition; good reason her load didn't bother her. Three men have a smoke break beside a hulk of a vehicle over two meters high and over three and a half long. An honest to God tank. They see the woman getting closer; when she reaches its known her happiness stemmed from bringing water for these three.

Was their presence to fight for her people that wiped away any wariness baring her load of water.

Before any pleasantries she insists they drink up, those pleasantries do begin but turn ominous. The men speaking with a high and mighty air boasting of power, extolling the tank.

Driver, 'We've broken up anyone who's messed with you. You people are nothing without us.'
Gunner, 'We crushed people under the tread of this tank. Don't believe it? See that big machine gun there?' he directs her attention to the large MG NSVT atop the turret. 'That's 12.7 millimetres. Rip you up.'  

The tank commander exerts discipline and demands respect for whom they travelled to save - wish that happened, passive as can be.

Naturally the gunner, 'The big ole thing is the main gun.' He refers to a huge, long 125 millimetre gun poking out its front. 'Blow a hole size of the Urals from four thousand meters!' He brazenly grabs her arms, 'Kiss it!'

Liberators are how she imagined these men and their metal steed - clearly some realities are learned first-hand, hitting from nowhere.

That demand somehow made her more incredulous. Noting her surprising hesitation, is threatened with leaving the bus in place. 'These guys are like that,' says the disciplining commander.

Those words are like a needle to the heart - that stupid bus was placed to impede the enemy but disrupts lives of innocent people too. Those men are the only ones who can do anything. Declaring she sacrificed her dignity for the good of many, brings her lips closer and closer, body on the verge of trembling.

Ultimately touches an instrument of awe, the muzzle in a kiss with feminine lips.

She can feel then hear the laughter. For a humiliating trophy a man snaps a cell phone picture. Later their disgust satiated, they help, pushing a measly bus out the way is nothing for a forty six ton T 80.