His cold metal buttons reflected the moon above. His jaw, disconnected on one side, swung back and forth. Tongue lolling, blood dripping the shambling corpse groaned.
“It’s the colonel.” James gasped.
what does that mean? is it something from the army? I have no idea since there is no army where I live. I would think you’d have to be high ranking to be called a colonel and probably des
Back when the trees still had thick bark and the rivers did not run red, when the sky stayed it’s lasting blue and the night felt like a dance- this is what I remember as being human. Not this slag of a town, with it’s buckets of shit and barrels of cheap wine. I remember when I’d ride miles upon miles of grass without seeing a brick or a lane or girls with dead eyes and pale lips.
Colonel? Ha! Not on your life! He was never a Colonel. Margaret took another wash of whiskey as she leaned against the maple desk in her late husbands office. Her gaze drift toward the window overlooking downtown and the distant sound. Never… not my Richard, she whispered to no one in particular.
The colonel’s breath caught in his throat. Crunch…Crunch…Crunch. There it was again, behind him this time. Frozen, the colonel racked his brain for any means he could think of to gain the upper hand against what was coming. But his mind was blank; like ghosts from the past, the voices of superior’s that had once pushed him, pressed him, punished him until he got it right now echoed hollowly in his ears.
Turning around, the colonel braced himself to die.
Colonel reminds me of war and chicken. I don’t know a whole lot about wars, history and current events not being my strongest suit. Chicken on the other hand is probably the greatest food love of my life.
The colonel raced into the building and scanned the room, The room was dark, however he could see enough to know that the footsteps went left, so he darted in that direction. However he then came to the door and unfortunately it was locked. He kicked hard against the door knob, again and again.
Colonel Sanders is the only colonel I ever heard of and we used to say that KFC stood for Kentucky Fried Colonel. I recently went to Tennessee and discovered a fast food restaurant called Mrs. Sanders. Go figure. More fried chicken, please.
Colonel mustard did it. He was the murderer and he used the revolver in the study. He killed scarlet after entering through the trap door. And thats how I won clue.. Problem Solved.
“Your shadow looks like the colonel, colonel Sanders” “acdaa///ACK, stubbed my toe” “I wish I could cuss right now” “Can’t express myself enough without the S word” “Don’t wear two bras at once, I don’t care how much that sweater makes you look flatchested, I did that once and bruised my ribs” “My ribs” “It’s on repeat” “I’m a walking show” “I’m a working shadow” “This reminds me of when I was 18” “Oh, weren’t things great then?” “There were so may possibilities” “My head is too heavy” “Feels heavy” “Colonel Thompson help me to the door” “I’m light” “God, my ribs” “Someone save us” “I’ve been shot” “And she doesn’t even care”
He, so sharp and hard and virile, vicious edges of sharpened brutality. He stared from beneath the wind and saw in her eyes the child he never had, the love he could never dream of. How she became so many things to him in that moment was something he had no way to understand. But he had no knowledge of his heart, and only she, from the outside looking in, could see what he tried so hard to hide. In the end, it made all the difference.
THE FRIKIN KFC GUT COLONEL SANDERS AND THEN COLONEL CUSTARD KILLED MR. BODY WITH A KNIFE IN THE LOUNGE. IT IS ALSO A MILITARY RANKING. WHY IS THERE NO R IN COLONEL I DONT GET IT??????
Colonel, the man not good enough to be a general, who sits around all day, moping and wishing his superiors would just die.
He acts rougher and tougher.
The Colonel was very angry. He had been frying up chicken all day and was ruining his nice white suit with sweat and grease. He could feel the sweat running through his snow white mustache.
The colonel was exhausted. He had just fried his 5ooth piece of chicken and it had only been an hour since he had punched in for work. It was embarassing enough to have to fry his own chicken when he was Colonel Sanders.
the colonel stood at the front of the army barking out instructions to the poised soldiers of the confederate states. they stand eager fir instruction and action. The colonel sighed knowing what it was like to be one of them
Colonel Black was livid. The man was supposed to be there at 5. It was 5.05 now, and there was no sign of anyone. Suddenly, he spotted a black silhouette in the distance. It wasn’t even a man, it was like a black smudge. Like a black mark on an otherwise blank canvas. The silhouette grew closer.
Colonel. What a strange word. And what a strange person to have such a fitting title. Neither make sense. The word and the man it belongs to. He contradicts himself, much like colonel does. It should sound one way, but sounds the opposite. How could this be?
The colonel turned to his men, and raised his hands in surrender. “It does not look good”, he chided them, “for an army intelligence chief to be caught out by a surprise birthday party!”
He stood, towering over his enemies, commanded his troops according to the principles set by dispatch…with grace and heart of gold. But the colonel was terrified of spiders. And since his name wasn’t Little Miss Muffett, he found the fear utterly ridiculous and life-controlling.
The colonel put pen to paper and started the letter of recommendation.
“A fine young lad…” He paused, unable to muster up any more of a description without spewing out a lie. So he took it home with him, to write in his leisure but it remained on his coffee table for quite some time. Finally, as the paper began to peel and moss had grown over the ruin that use to be his home, he remembered to finish the recommendation. “…and a hero in his final moment.”
The colonel comes around once a year, and when he does oh boy… Me and the colonel have had some fun times together. Last year when he came, I couldn’t believe the amount of scratches and carpet burns I had after he left.
It’s really embarrassing when I pronounce this wrong… I do it all the time too. It’s not like I don’t know how to pronounce it, my brain is just a scumbag and it likes to say things as it see them instead of how it knows to say them.
But he didn’t hear them. He only saw the infinite possiblities of the situation at hand, most of which resulted in his death, or his ship’s destruction.
The colonel asked his people not to fire. The hostage was a little boy. It was really complicated.
Everybody was at the scene now. Even the reporters are there. Now, it was televised.
Everybody was worried about the little boy. His mom was crying with the police. Suddenly, beyond all commotion, a gunshot was fired. Everything was over.
The boy ran to his mother. The kidnapper was shot.
“Good work colonel. And everybody. The boy was saved.”
I remember Colonel Mustard from the Board game “Clue”. I think Krusty the clown was him in the Simpsons version. It’s a very strange word in the English language because the way we pronounce it and the way it’s spelled are two very different things.
The colonel was an angry man, I didn’t like to be around him. I hate war but he seemed to love it, he loved to hate. I don’t know why i’m here. This is not the place for me. I don’t belong here. I don’t.
At post, the colonel greets his men,
A drear look in his eye.
The trumpet sounds a revelry.
Before the sun has touched the sky,
The soldiers under his command
Have circled all the base around,
Glowing with the sweat of their own heat,
Following the learned path without a sound,
Save for the rhythmic beat of their own feet.
(Colonel) His suit always looked like he’s worn it to bed. I’m sure he didn’t, but that’s how it looked. Wrinkled up one side and down the other, he somehow managed to look magestic. Like a peacock. Or, a giraffe with a lot more buttons.
fried chicken
vs. roy mustang
animals.
birds and horses,
soaring towards a golden horizon.
empty plains of endless opportunities
but i’m stuck in the mountains.
i’ll head down to the valley soon.
see you there.
your wrist knocks against your forehead. salute. your wrist knocks against your forehead. but he is not moving. and your wrist knocks against your forehead. but you can see his life falling from him. your wrist knocks against your forehead. but his eyes are wide open. his uniform is rumpled. and your wrist knocks against your forehead. salute. colonel.
The colonel had returned to the outpost by the time the sun went down, her hat tucked under her arm as she patrolled, her rifle slung in a sloppy slant across her back. I was sitting on a loose plank beside the abandoned barracks, drinking greedily from a bottle and wiping my mouth with the back of my sleeve, when she approached me, red coat billowing in the wind.
His cold metal buttons reflected the moon above. His jaw, disconnected on one side, swung back and forth. Tongue lolling, blood dripping the shambling corpse groaned.
“It’s the colonel.” James gasped.
I don’t know what colonel means, but I think it’s a rank in the army.
“Colonel!”
“Yes serg!?”
“You’re a maggot compared to me!”
“Understood Sir!”
lol
what does that mean? is it something from the army? I have no idea since there is no army where I live. I would think you’d have to be high ranking to be called a colonel and probably des
Really weird but the first colonel I thought of was colonel mustard! I must have been harking back to my younger days of playing Cluedo.
The colonel turned around to face us, face heavily lined from years of grief. “I don’t have anything left to lose,” he murmured.
Back when the trees still had thick bark and the rivers did not run red, when the sky stayed it’s lasting blue and the night felt like a dance- this is what I remember as being human. Not this slag of a town, with it’s buckets of shit and barrels of cheap wine. I remember when I’d ride miles upon miles of grass without seeing a brick or a lane or girls with dead eyes and pale lips.
War hero, brother, father, son, husband. Heartache, longning, lonelines. Brave, respected
Colonel? Ha! Not on your life! He was never a Colonel. Margaret took another wash of whiskey as she leaned against the maple desk in her late husbands office. Her gaze drift toward the window overlooking downtown and the distant sound. Never… not my Richard, she whispered to no one in particular.
The colonel’s breath caught in his throat. Crunch…Crunch…Crunch. There it was again, behind him this time. Frozen, the colonel racked his brain for any means he could think of to gain the upper hand against what was coming. But his mind was blank; like ghosts from the past, the voices of superior’s that had once pushed him, pressed him, punished him until he got it right now echoed hollowly in his ears.
Turning around, the colonel braced himself to die.
Colonel reminds me of war and chicken. I don’t know a whole lot about wars, history and current events not being my strongest suit. Chicken on the other hand is probably the greatest food love of my life.
The colonel raced into the building and scanned the room, The room was dark, however he could see enough to know that the footsteps went left, so he darted in that direction. However he then came to the door and unfortunately it was locked. He kicked hard against the door knob, again and again.
Colonel Sanders is the only colonel I ever heard of and we used to say that KFC stood for Kentucky Fried Colonel. I recently went to Tennessee and discovered a fast food restaurant called Mrs. Sanders. Go figure. More fried chicken, please.
“Like the rank,” Aomine said. His eyes brushed over the ground. “And you are…?”
“Kagami Taiga, no rank at all.”
Colonel mustard did it. He was the murderer and he used the revolver in the study. He killed scarlet after entering through the trap door. And thats how I won clue.. Problem Solved.
THE END.
“Your shadow looks like the colonel, colonel Sanders” “acdaa///ACK, stubbed my toe” “I wish I could cuss right now” “Can’t express myself enough without the S word” “Don’t wear two bras at once, I don’t care how much that sweater makes you look flatchested, I did that once and bruised my ribs” “My ribs” “It’s on repeat” “I’m a walking show” “I’m a working shadow” “This reminds me of when I was 18” “Oh, weren’t things great then?” “There were so may possibilities” “My head is too heavy” “Feels heavy” “Colonel Thompson help me to the door” “I’m light” “God, my ribs” “Someone save us” “I’ve been shot” “And she doesn’t even care”
He, so sharp and hard and virile, vicious edges of sharpened brutality. He stared from beneath the wind and saw in her eyes the child he never had, the love he could never dream of. How she became so many things to him in that moment was something he had no way to understand. But he had no knowledge of his heart, and only she, from the outside looking in, could see what he tried so hard to hide. In the end, it made all the difference.
“Colonel! I hollered, You cant just leave me here! I need you. We all need you. You make -us- work. Please don’t go. I couldn’t stand it.”
THE FRIKIN KFC GUT COLONEL SANDERS AND THEN COLONEL CUSTARD KILLED MR. BODY WITH A KNIFE IN THE LOUNGE. IT IS ALSO A MILITARY RANKING. WHY IS THERE NO R IN COLONEL I DONT GET IT??????
Colonel, the man not good enough to be a general, who sits around all day, moping and wishing his superiors would just die.
He acts rougher and tougher.
The Colonel was very angry. He had been frying up chicken all day and was ruining his nice white suit with sweat and grease. He could feel the sweat running through his snow white mustache.
The colonel was exhausted. He had just fried his 5ooth piece of chicken and it had only been an hour since he had punched in for work. It was embarassing enough to have to fry his own chicken when he was Colonel Sanders.
the colonel stood at the front of the army barking out instructions to the poised soldiers of the confederate states. they stand eager fir instruction and action. The colonel sighed knowing what it was like to be one of them
Colonel Black was livid. The man was supposed to be there at 5. It was 5.05 now, and there was no sign of anyone. Suddenly, he spotted a black silhouette in the distance. It wasn’t even a man, it was like a black smudge. Like a black mark on an otherwise blank canvas. The silhouette grew closer.
Colonel. What a strange word. And what a strange person to have such a fitting title. Neither make sense. The word and the man it belongs to. He contradicts himself, much like colonel does. It should sound one way, but sounds the opposite. How could this be?
The colonel turned to his men, and raised his hands in surrender. “It does not look good”, he chided them, “for an army intelligence chief to be caught out by a surprise birthday party!”
He stood, towering over his enemies, commanded his troops according to the principles set by dispatch…with grace and heart of gold. But the colonel was terrified of spiders. And since his name wasn’t Little Miss Muffett, he found the fear utterly ridiculous and life-controlling.
You always pronounced things wrong, which I would get on your case for. But there were a couple things you never would:
Colonel, and
His Name.
The colonel put pen to paper and started the letter of recommendation.
“A fine young lad…” He paused, unable to muster up any more of a description without spewing out a lie. So he took it home with him, to write in his leisure but it remained on his coffee table for quite some time. Finally, as the paper began to peel and moss had grown over the ruin that use to be his home, he remembered to finish the recommendation. “…and a hero in his final moment.”
The colonel comes around once a year, and when he does oh boy… Me and the colonel have had some fun times together. Last year when he came, I couldn’t believe the amount of scratches and carpet burns I had after he left.
It’s really embarrassing when I pronounce this wrong… I do it all the time too. It’s not like I don’t know how to pronounce it, my brain is just a scumbag and it likes to say things as it see them instead of how it knows to say them.
Colonel is a high ranking officer in the army, he orders soldiers, and controls the troops.
He stood at the bridge of the ship.
“Colonel?” One of his bridgemates asked.
But he didn’t hear them. He only saw the infinite possiblities of the situation at hand, most of which resulted in his death, or his ship’s destruction.
The colonel asked his people not to fire. The hostage was a little boy. It was really complicated.
Everybody was at the scene now. Even the reporters are there. Now, it was televised.
Everybody was worried about the little boy. His mom was crying with the police. Suddenly, beyond all commotion, a gunshot was fired. Everything was over.
The boy ran to his mother. The kidnapper was shot.
“Good work colonel. And everybody. The boy was saved.”
I remember Colonel Mustard from the Board game “Clue”. I think Krusty the clown was him in the Simpsons version. It’s a very strange word in the English language because the way we pronounce it and the way it’s spelled are two very different things.
The colonel was an angry man, I didn’t like to be around him. I hate war but he seemed to love it, he loved to hate. I don’t know why i’m here. This is not the place for me. I don’t belong here. I don’t.
At post, the colonel greets his men,
A drear look in his eye.
The trumpet sounds a revelry.
Before the sun has touched the sky,
The soldiers under his command
Have circled all the base around,
Glowing with the sweat of their own heat,
Following the learned path without a sound,
Save for the rhythmic beat of their own feet.
(Colonel) His suit always looked like he’s worn it to bed. I’m sure he didn’t, but that’s how it looked. Wrinkled up one side and down the other, he somehow managed to look magestic. Like a peacock. Or, a giraffe with a lot more buttons.
fried chicken
vs. roy mustang
animals.
birds and horses,
soaring towards a golden horizon.
empty plains of endless opportunities
but i’m stuck in the mountains.
i’ll head down to the valley soon.
see you there.
your wrist knocks against your forehead. salute. your wrist knocks against your forehead. but he is not moving. and your wrist knocks against your forehead. but you can see his life falling from him. your wrist knocks against your forehead. but his eyes are wide open. his uniform is rumpled. and your wrist knocks against your forehead. salute. colonel.
The colonel had returned to the outpost by the time the sun went down, her hat tucked under her arm as she patrolled, her rifle slung in a sloppy slant across her back. I was sitting on a loose plank beside the abandoned barracks, drinking greedily from a bottle and wiping my mouth with the back of my sleeve, when she approached me, red coat billowing in the wind.
“Use a napkin, for Christ’s sake,” she scowled.
“Oh. Sorry.”