Apologies to all involved for the delay in announcing the winning entry for our Call of Duty 5 Limited Edition Zippo competition.
I have to say I was pleasantly surprised by the quality and undeniable effort put into the entries and Â this is what has caused the delay as we couldn’t come to an unanimous decision and since we only had one lighter we were left in a bit of a predicament.
But in the end there could be only one and that one is Alex Hornsby, congratulations Alex and could you send me your postal details so that we can get your prize off to you.
Alex managed to write a rambling tale of war and shadow puppets which really appealed to my idiosynchronous* side. Click through for the winning entry.
I didn’t quite know how, but I’d been separated from the rest of my squad. Disoriented, I spotted a house which had only been half destroyed, which I reckoned I could use as a vantage point to get my bearings. I clambered inside and started gingerly making my way up the stairs. A sudden groaning escaped from the foundations, and the house basically caved in on itself. I cursed under my breath as I managed to avoid most of the debris. I was getting jittery – this was really Â not where I wanted to be at the moment.
Suddenly, a flash of movement catches my eye! It must be the enemy! I lay down a burst of fire with great aplomb. I shuffle over to see if I’ve caused any serious damage. A small amount of blood is on the floor and I figure I must have winged him. My foot brushes against an unexpected obstruction. It’s a fucking cat! I try to calm myself and reload my weapon, but quickly realise I’ve lost it somewhere. Feeling like a complete idiot now I ponder my course of action. I hear footsteps coming from outside and sneak a peek through an opening in this busted ass house. It’s fucking Fritz. Despite him trying to keep stealthy as he must have heard my accidental discharge, I hear him whack his head on something and hear a torrent of German abuse pour from his mouth.
I try to slow things down and consider my options. Fuck. I’ve just realised that there is only one way in to this house and one way out. That severely limits escape chances. I have a gun with no bullets – useless unless Herr Fritz is going to let me whack him around the head with it. I rummage around in my pockets for anything I could use. One pocket contains my trusty Zippo lighter and the other pocket contains my fags – or it would if there wasn’t a fucking hole in the pocket. My fledgling plan of sharing a smoke with the German is out the window then.
Pangs of desperation start to set in – I’ve got possibly minutes to live and all I can think of is how much shit luck I’ve had today. I need a smoke to calm my nerves . I start scrabbling about in the rubble looking for where I could have dropped my cigarettes. I hear a smash as Fritz powers through the door that sticks – personally I feel quiet sophistication is much better suited to war zones than the sort of jingoistic mindlessness that so many embrace. We are civilized men and we should behave as such.
Suddenly inspiration strikes me. What are Germans more scared of than anything in the world? I quickly start putting my plan in place.
The German slowly opens the door, leading with the barrel of his gun. Someone’s in the room, and the room is lit by the dancing flames of a Zippo lighter. His eyes stray to the far wall of the room and he sees a pair of shadows. They seem quite small but one shadow looks a bit dog shaped and the other could be anything – even a snake, crocodile or the head of a diplodocus, although that wouldn’t leave much space for the rest of the dinosaur in the building. They seem to be talking to each other in some language he doesn’t understand – perhaps in tongues. Â This is all getting too weird for him so he lets loose a volley of fire at the shadows. They seem unharmed and he starts to get worried as these shadow creatures turn towards him – unharmed. He lets out a whimper and flees from the house.
I suddenly realise that I should stop playing games with my hands making shadow puppets and start putting on my comedy stylings to frighten the German – everyone knows Germans have no sense of humour and explode if you can get them to laugh, or at least that’s what my CO says. But he seems to be goneâ€¦
I wandered around and eventually found the rest of my squad who were displeased with my getting lost but quite happy that I’d managed to bring something to vary the meals. So for tea we had cat and chips. Which was nice.
*it so is a word
Last Updated: November 27, 2008