Shit! You had to step on my left hand where I was injured.
The middle knuckle of my bird finger was dislocated last week, asshole.
None of this was spoken aloud. The dipshit stepping on
my hand would not react in my best interest. I was on the "Quest for the Boar's Tooth".
My tormentor moved on but the pain still screamed at me.
I dare to peek slowly at my surroundings. I saw no movement. I waited another ten minutes before inching forward. It took me four hours to move the ten meters to the small ridge.
I looked over the edge and saw nothing but leaves and trees.
I turned my head to the right so I could scan with the corner of my eyes. I could see my spotter set up next to me. He was scanning with his binoculars. It took me another 20 minutes to deploy.
My "sweetheart" was pushed out in front of me.
I loved the feel of her as I slid her forward. The smooth warmth of her, the familiar curves and lines were so beautiful. Better than I deserved. I saw the movement. It was microscopic.
I lovingly looked down the length of her.
My spotter nudged my foot validating my sighting. I slipped my powerful golden tipped shaft into her smooth sweet receiver. I took a cheek weld on her butt. I found her sweet and squeezed.
She bucked slamming her butt into my shoulder.
A thrill spread through my body. We had done it again. My spotter whispered that he would recover my "Boar's Tooth".
I still have the "Boar's Tooth". I see it every day.
It is a 12.7x108mm DsHK. It hangs on a light chord in my work and living area.
The "Boar's Tooth" is the bullet meant to kill you.