Strips
Tall Tank Tales
Inaugural Dilemma
The brutal rain furiously pounded the tank all night. A few well-placed buckets and bowls caught the excess drips from the roof of the tank. Tank Girl rose early and to her delight she heard no rain. Lifting the top hatch on the tank, rays of bright sunlight shone in. Not wanting to wake Booga, she snuck out the hatch and into the brilliant sun.
Rain was savage in the Outback. It’s not the sort of rain that you and I are accustomed to. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it pounds in a damaging manner, pelting all below regardless of stature. One does NOT want to be caught out in the rain in these parts. But all things have equal counterparts. When the rain lifts, the ensuing weather is beautiful. To die for...
There were puddles all around the tank, all reflecting the morning sun. There was a wet tropical feel in the air. The morning breeze had yet to carry the moist air away and there was a warm haze hanging in the moment. Despite being a hard-core chick, Tank Girl loved these moments. They made her feel like a woman, not like a marauding savage who had to fight for everything she wanted and needed. She needed a moment like this and set off on a quick trek to enjoy a beautiful day.
In the spirit of the moment she took off her threadbare t-shirt and casually flung it on the ground. With the sun shining down on her chest, she walked on without a care in the world. At least for now...
Jiggling as she wandered down a narrow trail she occasionally heard noises - foot falls perhaps. She may have been topless, but she was certainly not weaponless. As a savage warrior, she was also not careless. She heard the sounds as the trail led winding down toward the lake. She and Booga had visited this lake before in their travels, but she had never seen it on such a beautiful day.
In an instant, a man stood before her dressed in a business suit and a fine pair of leather loafers. As quickly as Tanky put her knife to his throat, she noticed that he had his hands on her breasts.
Recognizing the man, she said, "You’re Bill Clinton."
"Yes," he replied in a simple tone.
"You were president of the United States before you started humping hundreds of chicks."
"Yes, but that was only a small part of my presidency," he returned.
"The former president of the US is touching my breasts?"
"Yes," he replied gleefully giving her supple orbs a brief squeeze.
"WHY is the former president feeling up my fucking tits!?!" she yelled with authority.
Before he could respond, Tank Girl hurled her knife into the bushes to her right and hoisted an Ar-15 from her back strap. Another well-dressed man fell from the bushes with her knife in his chest. Before his body hit the ground full-auto fire sprayed in an arc dropping everything in its path. As the smoke cleared Tanky and the former president stood looking at the slaughter. A dozen or so well dressed men all lay dead with their weapons strewn all around. It was a bloodbath.
"You killed all my men!" cried Bill.
"Whoops. Were they with you?" Tanky inquired.
"They were my bodyguards," he said in a dismal voice.
"Not very good ones," she commented.
A priest came running up screaming chaotically amidst the death and carnage.
"What happened here? We have to get help immediately!"
"Don’t sweat if, Padre, they’re all dead and don’t need any attention," Tanky responded with a chilled grin.
"Besides me and Bill have everything under control," she mused.
The man looked horrified and was seemingly staggering in circles looking at the dead. He seemed to be mumbling a prayer under his breath. Priests had never sat well with Tank Girl - too much morality all in one place. And this guy was in full-on save-the-day mode. A particularly annoying trait.
"Lookit what I found," called Booga as he bounded onto the scene.
He was carrying five or six submachine guns - guns that had recently belonged to Bill Clinton’s entourage.
"I was starting up the grill for some breakfast hotdogs when I heard loud noises," he continued, "Next thing I know, I’m picking up guns like they fell from heaven."
"Now that’s very unlikely," Tanky said, "Isn’t it, Padre? Guns falling from heaven? Seems unlikely to me at least."
"Don’t disparage the deceased with your cocky tone," spoke the irritated man in the collar.
"He has a point," Booga reconciled, "Although he said ’cock’."
The priest went to talk with Bill although he didn’t recognize him as a former White House playboy. The two became rather chatty due to the fact that no one else really wanted to talk to either of them. Government officials and the clergy often seem to have numerous tales of sexual debauchery to share amongst themselves, so they were getting along well.
BLAM!
A loud crack pierced the air and the priest fell to the ground as blood oozed from his head.
"Bill, am I too late?" called a rather attractive blonde who was holding the larges pistol Tanky and Booga had ever seen. She was wearing a pink business suit with a navy sash around her neck in a desperate attempt to draw attention away from her huge breasts, which were dutifully stress-testing the fabric of her outfit. With pink heels that matched her suit, she was definitely an out-of-towner.
"Mindy, you killed a priest!" Bill cried frantically, "What were you thinking?"
Both Tanky and Booga were skeptical that blondes did much thinking especially under the duress of shooting a priest in the presence of a former president. But, the more pressing question on everyone’s mind was ushered up by our topless heroine, Tank Girl.
"What the fuck kind of name is Mindy?" she growled at the peculiar, yet attractive young lady.
"Bill," she cooed, "I saw the bad man dressed in black, so I killed him."
"He was a man of the cloth," shouted Bill who was looking less and less like he was enjoying Mindy’s sensuous appearance.
"Don’t sweat it Min," Tanky reassured, "He was a bad man. In fact Jesus sent us a telegram alleging him in a series of crimes against human decency."
"I’m sorry Bill," she cooed again, "He just looked mean and unjust."
There are two things that are horribly annoying to Tank Girl; brainless women with nothing to show the world except their tits and people who just don’t know when to shut the fuck up.
BLAM!
Mindy, her large breasts, her even larger pistol and her fluffy blonde hair fell like a sack of potatoes.
"Well, and eye for an eye I always say," was Tanky’s declaring statement, "you can’t just wander around the desert in heels, shooting random priests and expect to get away unscathed."
"Nicely handled, Dear," called Booga who was wrestling the pistol from Mindy’s cooling grasp.
Former president Clinton was quite disturbed by this series of events. His bodyguards had been mowed down like clowns on a firing range, an innocent priest died in his arms (although priests are rarely as innocent as we like to think) and his blonde gun-toting mistress met her demise. All this occurred within several minutes of meeting a topless chick with an AR-15.
To add insult to injury, Tanky had managed to slither into Mindy’s pink costume and was sashaying about asking Booga if she looked like a rilly rilly big whore.
"Yes you do, my sweet. A mighty fetching one at that!"