Strips
Tall Tank Tales
Lyle's Tobacco Farm - "Smokin’"
Their immediate thought was to set up a permanent camp and enjoy the fruits (or cigarettes) of Lyle’s labor. Actually, their enthusiasm rather scared Lyle, still perched on his tractor wondering what these tank-driving morons really had in mind. If truth be told - they barely had a mind between them when it came to rational, real-time decisions. Impulse was rarely kind to these two - although they always fared well in the end.
"Are you going to kill me?" asked the frightened farmer.
"Kill you?" Tank Girl responded with shock.
"We’d never kill you, fine sir. You make cigarettes", assured Booga.
Lyle didn’t seem terribly reassured by any of this. Two kooks in a tank didn’t seem like the most reliable group one would place trust in. If the truth be known... Lyle could easily become their best friend - if he played his cards right. Unfortunately, Lyle was not much of a card player.
However, Tank Girl and Booga were about to solve his problem (Tanky and Booga actually BEING the problem). Overwhelmed at the premise of a seemingly infinite supply of tobacco, rationale was in short supply. Tanky and Booga discussed their options and decided to take a large supply of tobacco for later conversion into cigarettes. Naturally, it would quickly go stale, but no one had enjoyed a fresh cigarette for a long time.
Our two heroes jumped down from the tank and climbed up the large bin Lyle was trailing behind his tractor. Actually, the tractor was a harvesting device and Lyle was in the process of bringing in the crop. Tanky and Booga saw the large stash of freshly harvested tobacco and smiles creased both their faces. Unsure how to react, they both jumped into the bin and proceeded to toss piles of tobacco in the air. This seemed quite gleeful to them.
Suddenly, more gleeful screams drowned out our two nicotine-freaks. This sound was combined with loud engine noises. Tanky and Booga knew this scenario well - biker looking for mayhem.
"Fuck", she yelled, keenly creeping over the harvester bin’s wall toward the Tank.
"Right behind ya, baby", Booga grumbled.
He didn’t care for bikers. They just caused unnecessary trouble and were more often big pains in the ass. They’re hard to kill and are often too many of them. The tank offset both of these detriments.
Tank Girl climbed to the turret of the tank and placed a firm grip on the top-mounted 50 caliber machinegun. A wry smirk crossed her dirty face. She still had some tobacco leaves in her hair. The bikers, maybe 25 in number, were storming across the tobacco field leaving long trials of dust in their wake.
"I spy leather-clad dorks begging for pain", she mused lining up the sites.
Ack, ack, ack - din din din din din. Echoed the 50 cal as bikers dropped one by one in the field. Some of them seemed to launch up into the air as the large shells made contact. Their riderless bikes would sail onward, but soon tumble as had their owners. The thing bikers never seemed to realize, in this post apocalyptic world, is how difficult it is to ride a bike, shoot a gun and actually hit anything with said gun.
Booga stood nonchalantly by the tank, desperately trying to light a cigarette in the stiff breeze. When the 50 cal silenced he heard Tanky let out a "Whahoooo!". Looking up at her behind the gun-mount, he couldn’t help but notice how pretty she looked today as the final few wisps of smoke emerged from the machinegun. Admiring the bodycount, Tanky smiled as she too lit a cigarette and winked at her Roo below.
Like the end of a romantic episode, Tanky and Booga boarded the tank and rode off into the sun. Lyle sat stymied on his harvester wondering if anything stranger than this would occur any time soon. He started up the harvester also wondering why those two morons had not taken ANY of his tobacco!