fitbabits
07-13-2008, 04:50 PM
Sheesh! What a week. I've barely had time to... Never mind.
Anyway, without further ado, the winners of the recent Battlefield: Bad Company competition (http://www.evilavatar.com/forums/showthread.php?t=56481) are...
Kelegacy
I’m Travis “Rad” Radcliff.
Before I tossed down my ink at the recruitment office, I was a no talent clown. Literally. Kids’ birthdays, making those animal balloons, big floppy shoes, all that. Cliffy the Clown. Loud scary laugh and overzealous makeup. But it was better than being a magician. I didn’t have the mustache for that gig, and I sure didn’t have a lot of luck with rabbits. Just lots of crying, frightened kids.
I was one of those rare flunkies whose conditioning in basic just never seeded. Yet I was a good soldier, or at least good enough to avoid a dishonorable discharge after an incident at a Turkish brothel found its way back to an MP who may or may not still breathe with a whistle out his left nostril.
A controllable war-lust for blood and the acrid smell of freshly fired weaponry is something the Army sympathizes with and secretly desires in their infantry fodder. I was too valuable to be consigned once more to pulling tissues out of my sleeve or taking a pie in the face for some suburban brat.
The Bad Company, for better or worse, is a place where my inner psychotic can be satisfied and my penchant for antics tolerated. It ain’t no cake walk, and that’s alright with me. They appreciate results here, not politics. We’re misfits in Bad, but where else is a magician clown-beserker going to find a place in the military?
Blue
In the Summer of ’44 my grandmother, Clara Louise Collins-Bone, entered herself into the First Annual Steel Cage Bear Wrestling Competition in Appleton, Wisconsin. She lost (may she rest in peace), lasting a miraculous six minutes and fourteen seconds before the bear attacked with what the judges determined to be an illegal choke-hold. Stricken with grief at his wife’s sudden passing, Samson Bone – my grandfather – enlisted in the 117th Battalion of the Army Guard in order to, according to family legend, "nab himself a German and see the world." You can find this exact quote on the Bone family crest just beneath the spread bald eagle.
Sadly, Grandpa Bone managed to do neither of these things leaving for boot camp the Wednesday following Clara’s death where he trained for a grueling six weeks only to then be sent to the dark and mysterious front of Oak Ridge, Tennessee. There, for the remainder of the war (and his life), he guarded a factory of some repute.
Looking to extend upon my grandfather’s legacy, I joined Traditional Security Inc. (a division of a division of the 117th Battalion) upon graduating High School in the hopes of landing a Government job overseeing the protection of a steel mill or lumber yard. However, through severe mis-communication between my superiors and the misplacement of my J9 RKL-001 form, I instead found myself deployed to the 22nd Army Battalion – a group also referred to as “Bad Company” in quieter circles – despite any formal combat training on my part. They have since adopted me as their own and given me the rank of Beer Gopher Class C and I’ve been told that should I apply myself, I can hope to see Class B in as little as four months. Here’s hoping.
My name is J. Elijah Bone and I am a Beer Gopher for Bad Company. Grandpa Bone would be proud.
Congratulations, boys. To claim your prize, send your legal name address to me here (evavgiveaway@gmail.com). I'll endeavor to get the games out to you this week.
Oh, and if anyone's interested, the mystery prize goes to Elvio. You can read his entry after the jump.
Anyway, without further ado, the winners of the recent Battlefield: Bad Company competition (http://www.evilavatar.com/forums/showthread.php?t=56481) are...
Kelegacy
I’m Travis “Rad” Radcliff.
Before I tossed down my ink at the recruitment office, I was a no talent clown. Literally. Kids’ birthdays, making those animal balloons, big floppy shoes, all that. Cliffy the Clown. Loud scary laugh and overzealous makeup. But it was better than being a magician. I didn’t have the mustache for that gig, and I sure didn’t have a lot of luck with rabbits. Just lots of crying, frightened kids.
I was one of those rare flunkies whose conditioning in basic just never seeded. Yet I was a good soldier, or at least good enough to avoid a dishonorable discharge after an incident at a Turkish brothel found its way back to an MP who may or may not still breathe with a whistle out his left nostril.
A controllable war-lust for blood and the acrid smell of freshly fired weaponry is something the Army sympathizes with and secretly desires in their infantry fodder. I was too valuable to be consigned once more to pulling tissues out of my sleeve or taking a pie in the face for some suburban brat.
The Bad Company, for better or worse, is a place where my inner psychotic can be satisfied and my penchant for antics tolerated. It ain’t no cake walk, and that’s alright with me. They appreciate results here, not politics. We’re misfits in Bad, but where else is a magician clown-beserker going to find a place in the military?
Blue
In the Summer of ’44 my grandmother, Clara Louise Collins-Bone, entered herself into the First Annual Steel Cage Bear Wrestling Competition in Appleton, Wisconsin. She lost (may she rest in peace), lasting a miraculous six minutes and fourteen seconds before the bear attacked with what the judges determined to be an illegal choke-hold. Stricken with grief at his wife’s sudden passing, Samson Bone – my grandfather – enlisted in the 117th Battalion of the Army Guard in order to, according to family legend, "nab himself a German and see the world." You can find this exact quote on the Bone family crest just beneath the spread bald eagle.
Sadly, Grandpa Bone managed to do neither of these things leaving for boot camp the Wednesday following Clara’s death where he trained for a grueling six weeks only to then be sent to the dark and mysterious front of Oak Ridge, Tennessee. There, for the remainder of the war (and his life), he guarded a factory of some repute.
Looking to extend upon my grandfather’s legacy, I joined Traditional Security Inc. (a division of a division of the 117th Battalion) upon graduating High School in the hopes of landing a Government job overseeing the protection of a steel mill or lumber yard. However, through severe mis-communication between my superiors and the misplacement of my J9 RKL-001 form, I instead found myself deployed to the 22nd Army Battalion – a group also referred to as “Bad Company” in quieter circles – despite any formal combat training on my part. They have since adopted me as their own and given me the rank of Beer Gopher Class C and I’ve been told that should I apply myself, I can hope to see Class B in as little as four months. Here’s hoping.
My name is J. Elijah Bone and I am a Beer Gopher for Bad Company. Grandpa Bone would be proud.
Congratulations, boys. To claim your prize, send your legal name address to me here (evavgiveaway@gmail.com). I'll endeavor to get the games out to you this week.
Oh, and if anyone's interested, the mystery prize goes to Elvio. You can read his entry after the jump.