and all thru the bay,
not a wrench was moving,
everyone gone for the day.
Monk, in his overalls,
a cuppa in his lap,
had just settled down,
for a liquor laced nap.
The mecha's were stored,
all snug in their stalls,
ready and waiting,
for the first battle calls.
When out on the drill floor,
There rose such a cacophony,
That Monk fell out of his chair,
And spilled his "quote" coffee.
He ran thru the locker room,
and out into the service dock,
still pulling on his boots,
and cursing his socks.
When what to his bloodshot,
eyes should appear,
a shiny new red ant,
it's origins, unclear.
It's pilot was hidden,
behind smoky, bullet proof, Plexiglas,
but it's voice on the loudspeaker,
put Monk on his ass.
It touched off it's jump jets,
from it's engines came a whistle,
and shot into the air,
like a short range guidance missile.
It landed on a hover platform,
and locked in it's sights,
on the now prostrate form,
of our hero in his plight.
"I come from the Clan of Censor's,
my fine little fellow.",
Came the words from the mech,
Like a digital bellow.
"Your words are offending,
your prose lacking and low,
and your grammar and syntax,
have MUCH room to grow."
"We have read your articles,
and smart ass little rants,
and we are sick of your nonsense,
you puny piss ant!"
"So take this as a warning,
clean up your act,
and prepare to type up,
a massive retract!"
Monk sat up and blinked,
thru whiskey shocked eyes,
then started to laugh,
so hard that he cried.
"What's so damn funny!"
The pilot demanded,
"Explain yourself, scum,
or prepare to be back handed!"
"Oh, please forgive me,"
The hysterical tech sobbed,
"But you are standing,
On a H.E. ammo pod!"
Then with a flick of his thumb,
Monk tapped the trigger,
To a remote detonator,
And ran with much younger vigor.
As mech parts rained,
All over the hall,
Monk exuberantly shouted,
"Happy Clan Wars, Y'all!"
Submitted by Monk Malone aka "SGT" Ron Frye#879655