Micro Apocalyptic Weapon Systems: an Introduction

     The Islamofascists had already blown up all the women and children so they had no one to hide behind anymore and hence were galavanting about in the Afghani poppie field, dancing and singing praises to Allah, praying for more women and children to torment before their scheduled whisking-away to Paradise and their alloted seventy-two alleged virgins.
     Captain Lebenowitz, proud Polish American Army officer, watched from the craggy outcropping with his team of Black Ops. Watching a Taliban pick up a poppy, sniff it and then dance around in a circle, he shook his head. "Okay. That's enough. This would be too easy so call in The Shepherd." Staff Sergeant Jim put in the call.
     The blazing white light of the Messiah's ParkZone Ultra Micro P-51 appeared above the poppie field in an instant and zipped around, over the heads of the muslims. "I am the way, the truth and the life," filled the air in all languages with a startling clarity that undeniably revealed its heavenly origin. "This is your last chance," was the jist.
     The muslim fascists picked up stones from the field and hurled them at the Warrior of Truth in the sky. This was the last act of defiant stupidity these folks would ever commit on the good earth.
     The projectiles from the six Angelic Browning Micro Machine Guns were of heavenly forging, balls of pure unquenchable fire that tracked straight and true to each intended target of denial.
     In an instant each terrorist with innocent blood on his hands was engulfed in pure white flame and reduced to a heap of ashes as their dark spirits were quickly and fairly judged, and driven with Biblical force into the Lake of Fire for all eternity, where they would gnash their teeth in unending trevail..
     The blazing white P-51 did a victory roll over Captain Lebenowitz's team and flew off heavenward.
     "They made that call," the Captain said.
     "Justice is sweet," Segeant Jim said.
     "And swift," Lieutenant Sakai said. "Man, how about those 'Fittys' on that bird?"
     "Yes. Selective reaping," Lebenowitz marveled. "Fifty caliber justice that is harmless to those who believe and know the sound of his voice. Yes. Our Shepherd's 'fittys' kick selective ass."
     "Word," Sakai punctuated. "But what about our new convert?" he asked, pointng to the one remaining Taliban in the field, who was on his knees with his head bowed to his chest, very much alive.
      "Ah," Captain lebenowitz smiled. "That's our new translator."