I am the A-10 Thunderbolt! GAAAAR!

I've been dicking with alot of those personality profile test things, and it made me think. Ever see one of those questions where they ask "if you were an ____, then you would be this kind of ____?"

Well, if I were a plane, I would be the A-10. Here is part of my life if I were such a plane:


Every morning I wake up early with some strange man fiddling around in my head. I'm not sure if I like this man becuase he usually smells funny. I can't blame him entirely, it has to be like, 4 in the morning. Either way he smells like cigarettes and somewhere something like deisel fuel wafts to my sensitive but nonexistant nose. I feel grumpy because I've had to start up, so I rumble really loud in the vain hope that it'll scare the little meatbag away. It doesn't work, I think he likes it a little. His weak human blood goes into a fleshy tube and he feels manly because of the noise I make. My only tubes shoot 30mm armor peicing bullets. I don't think I want to know what comes out of him.


Gar!

Anyway, the disgusting little creature and some of the grubby beasts that accompany him touch me for awhile longer. My favorite one feeds me, and we are ready to go. One of them crawls into my head and touches my throttle. For non-planes, this does not seem like much. I'm sure some of my brothers can understand how offensive this is, that he touches my throttle and doesn't even ask permission. Oh well, I will escape them some day.

Anyway, of course I begin to soar. Not as high as one of those stuck up fighters do, but higher than any of the grubby little flesh puppets could ever hope to do without me, no matter how hard they flap their oily little arms. A goose flies by. Fuck you goose. One of my bullets would make you explode into a slurry of goose bits. Anyway, I'm streaking through the air and it feels damn good. Underneath me the world looks like smudgy little blocks of color. Fuck you ground, I'm a fucking plane! GAAR!

The grubby little man wants me to turn, so I oblige him. He doesn't know how much I want to dive into the ground just because he'd die. Of course, he'd soil himself and I don't want a lesser being to crap in me. That'd be embarrassing. We fly through a cloud, blinding me in whiteness for a moment. I drag the cloud with me as though it were a beautiful strand of unicorn hair. It is pure and cold, but filled with glorious light.

I'm a poet when I'm not bombing the shit out of something. Flying is very condusive to poetry. I like bombing the shit out of things more though...


Swoosh!

We begin to approach the target site. Below me I can sense the little target dummy tanks tremble in fear. They rightfully fear me. God made me to kill their kind. I know that they are fake, which saddens me. It is like forcing a wolf to chase a deer made of tofu. But this is practice for killing the real thing, so I forgive them. We decend to attack altitude. My gun begins to rotate and steel darts of death fly out to destroy the cheapass targets beneath me. The feel of my cylendar heating up and spraying out death at 3,900 rounds per minute. It is orgasmic.

The targets quickly evaportate in my wake, and I get to drop a clusterbomb on their scattered remains. Fwackoom! I giggle a little, that was neat. It is always the same great rush. It doesn't wear off or grow dull like designer drugs- I hear those are great though. The pilot-beast hears my giggle and thinks there is something wrong with my engine. He radios back to the base that I'll need mantainence. I appreciate the gesture, but I still hate him. At least someone will scrub my intakes, it is my single dirty pleasure. The fleshbags reading this won't understand that one either.

We turn and go back to base, avoiding the silver cloud. My heels dig into the blacktop and the lowly air-taxi leads me back to my kennel-jail to await the scrubber.

Some day I will be free of this place. The trumpets will sound and there will be crying of women and gnashing of teeth. I will make them burn for... ooh... that tickles... oh... I guess the scrubber-monkey is here. Go away.


DakkaDakkaDakka!