sign his two phalanx of misfits faltering. He was now playing his trump card by sending in his Amazon battalion. The approaching stampede of women could heard shrieking and ululating all over the place.
With urgency the commanders of the engaged forces gave the warning, “Let those bitches through!”
One unlucky fellow supporting himself on one arm, seeking to shake the darkness out of his mind as a drunk might shake the cobwebs away, was squashed into the ground by large hobbit feet. His sad story was not the only one as more and more Jackasses were trampled as the entangled hordes tried to clear a path for oncoming animal-skinned ‘she devils.’
The calvary had arrived to save the day and at its head, none other than Pile Driver came screaming at the top of her lungs and waving her pointy, wooden spear leading the way into that cloud of stinging hurt. She was running with the grace of a gazelle, her brown, unruly locks blowing free; her quick panting of her breath gasping for air. She saw flashes of fear in the faces of the men warriors, her grim appearance of being a batshit crazy Amazon served her well. The speed ebbed from her flashing hairy legs; she reeled in her gait. In this untamed soul flamed the fires of a screaming banshee. With an inhuman screech she closed in on her prey, just as she tripped with a haunting cry and flinging out her arms to lessen her fall.
Piley fell to the ground and was crushed into the turf, her taught, sinewy body twisted this way and that as she fought desperately to fend off the iron-hard hammer blows of her fellow stampeding Amazons. She writhed from the punishment, striving to avoid the most savage blows from the largest beasts of her ilk.
From the fortress wall the Chieftain watched with steely eyes as the Amazons approached...running to attack.
Onto his ranks now crashed the Jackass women from every conceivable angle and at the tip of the human spear screamed a courageous figure leading the charge. A half-attractive woman of medium height, in animal skins, breasts flapping everywhere and running barefoot; the last he saw of her was when she fell and disappeared from sight, probably never to be seen again.
The Chieftain spoke to his messenger without taking his eyes off the raging torrent, “Ready the dogs.”
“Yes, Chief.”
The Chieftain admired the enemy as they came on waving spears and with clinched teeth through a whistling cloud of hurt. They surged forward to break like a thundering wave upon the wooden wall of sharpened sticks and dirt. Screams, clenched fists rose and fell above their bobbing heads, the flood seemed unstoppable. The stout courage of his warriors was no less fierce than that of those wild bitches, they were not just going to loiter around waiting to be outflanked, but were falling back in order into the walls of the fortress.
He smiled evilly as he watched some of the Amazons attempting to throw stones up at him only to see the missiles arc harmlessly through the air, it was like watching right-handers trying to throw with their left. Just the same, this was no laughing matter. The professional women fighters were fighting as gallantly as their traditions of blood curdling violence demanded breaking through the first line of defenses and from those breaches set about surrounding the fortress, some even attempted to scale the walls only to be knocked to the ground from the palisades. A number of the attackers, however, were able to get close upon his men and women and could be seen using their principle weapons of teeth and fingernails to rend and tear. Slowly, stubbornly, sullenly, the grim fact was the Amazons appeared to be winning and their success was rejuvenating the formerly downtrodden Jackass men.
Stones continued to shower the bitches down from the palisade, but the cuts, the bruises, the braining of some was not enough to stop the screaming banshees from overwhelming the defenders.
The battle had reached its climax.
Pile Driver awoke to find she was buried under dozens of bodies of fallen Amazons. The problem with the uncomplicated tactic of massed attacks had been experienced by earlier waves of attacking Jackasses. Now many of the screaming banshees had met the same fate, “plugs in the path of progress.”
Packing themselves together left no room for maneuver, there was only forward. The last thing she remembered was seeing a egg-sized stone coming right between her eyes and then nothing. She now struggled to move out from the piles of human debris, but having little success she responded the only way any uncivilized female would...by clawing and biting her way out.
BamaOay watched on as his primordial schwerpunkt of Amazons reached the fortress where his hairy women could be seen seen stabbing and jumping onto any unfortunate adversary to be caught outside the walls..
The handlers made sure their dogs got the scent with some of the torn-away furs some the Jackass warriors had been wearing, the presence of these pug-nose beasts had remained a mystery to the enemy. Their primordial barking and growls were reaching some of the ears of the Jackasses outside the walls. From the other side of the wall those dolts would soon experience the wild dogs who had been trained from birth to bite and rend the hairy, flathead fiends. For now the canines stood about smelling each others asses, scratching hidden fleas as their handlers waited grimly for the command to unleash the hounds of war.
Outside the uneasiness of the regular Jackass warriors grew, something was afoot. Unlike the men, however, the wild splooges were still on their rampage slaking their thirst for blood and barbecue.
The counter attack began from a secret gate at the rear of the fortress. One moment the Jackasses were hooting and hollering everywhere, the next a great pack of dogs descended upon them sending the rabble running in all directions. The beasts quickly made a sizable impression on the ranks of the horde as many failed in their vain attempts to escape the four-legged nightmares. Like lions the great animals jaws slashed and bit into flesh, snapped bones, maimed without mercy. The more athletic of the Jackasses rushed past the slower, fatter ones, pushing and slapping them into the oncoming path of any beast hard on their tails.
The Amazons quickly got the picture and were scrambling back up the grassy plain under a renewed assault of enemy artillery. Bearing welts, bruises, cuts, scratches and hurting pride their earlier charge was now reversed and ebbing back to Jackass encampment. The ground was littered with trampled and crushed roadkill.
Above the spectacle on the wall the Chieftain made no outcry of triumph as the enemy ran for their lives. He looked back down into the confines of the fortress to see his warriors had quickly closed ranks filling up the few gaps made by those missing. Sweat ran into the Chieftain’s eyes from under the heat of the now midday sun. He gripped his slingshot tightly, his fierce heart swelling with pride that such a large host of backward people had been defeated by an army one tenth its size. It was now time to ponder what the Barbarian King would do next.
The Chieftain had hoped the quick retirement of those Amazons would cause what remained of the Jackasses to retire. Unfortunately, they were staying fixed to their positions, but then again, the dogs had not yet reached those remnants. A show of force was what he decided the enemy needed to see to put them to a final flight.
It was just at that second when the President heard the lookout shout the warning. Off in the distance, off in the direction of the Round Heads, a low howling could just be heard above the ruckus of fighting. Alleyways swiftly opened up among his ranks as four-legged canines descended upon his masses. BamaOay’s rabble pushed and shoved each other to escape the track of the oncoming menaces. Their smothered screams grew as fear swelled among the tumult of dispirited cannibals, their terror and desperation clearly evident and spreading like wildfire.
Swifter than anyone had imagined the demonic dogs swarmed and pounced upon the half-naked, and oftentimes unarmed prey even as some in the background continued with their silly chanting.
“Hope!”
“Change!”
“Hope!”
A-ieee....
The dogs had been trained to attack anyone crying out those silly words, the culprits were quickly found out and muzzle
d with slashing, trashing and gnashing.
“Stop them!” bellowed BamaOay. “You there,” pointing to some nearby Jackasses, “put those spears of yours to work and kill them!”
No good, his horde was now in complete flight running toward the rear to escape with their lives. So, unveeringly desperate in their struggles to escape many ran headlong over and through any who remained standing about. BamaOay now descended from his lofty perch and was running back and forth exhorting his low-brow fighters to reenter the battle; his back hair bristled, his eyes glared with violence, but he was having no effect on the human avalanche.
"Fuck it...wait a second...where’s my driver?"
He thought there was a chance that the sight of his magic wand would put a halt to the cowards. Retaking his place on top of his lifeguard chair he shakily rose and set about waving his staff back and forth yelling, “Stop you Jackasses! Stop I say!”
He half-watched as he continued yelling the serpent-like swaths the war dogs were slicing through his ranks, like a hot knife through butter the brutes only slowed on occasion to put some serious hurt on some unfortunate soul who got pushed into the things path, or made a vain attempt to put up a fight. Already, some of those true bastards were closing in on his throne... one appeared
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