Black Bean Pooch and other randomness

[elingregory]

Last night, while stirring the wok with more enthusiasm than finesse, I managed to splash the dog with black bean sauce. He quite liked it and spent the evening grooming himself but couldn't do the top of his head. He has quite a faux-hawk today. It really suits him.

Here's Audi cashing in on this summer's block busters - Star Trek and Iron Man.

And here's a picture of the machine gun I was fiddling with at lunchtime to see how easy it would be too shoot out of a car window. It's a Great War Bermann MP18 and how it got in Mr XXXX's garden shed nobody knows, but it was in full working order when it was handed in. It's SO heavy. I can't pick it up with one hand which leads me to believe that I may be distressingly girly.

Comments

[wulfila.livejournal.com]

to see how easy it would be too shoot out of a car window

Writing research, or mere morbid curiosity?

[elin-gregory.livejournal.com]

Oh writing research, of course :)

"Briers glanced back down the road where the headlights were shining so brightly. "Fast as we can go, now, Miles," he suggested and gave him an encouraging slap on the thigh. "Robbin, it might be best if you lay down on the back seat. These are the type of thugs who carry guns."
"I would if I could," Robbin said, "but there's a load of stuff in here with me." Briers turned as far as he could and peered into the back as Robbin rummaged around. He heard a metallic rattle and saw light glint on something in Robbin's hands.
"Ah, so that's what it is," Robbins sounded both shocked and resigned. "Carstairs can you handle a tommy gun?"
"A what?" Miles yelped.
"Keep your eyes on the road," Briers advised. "Robbin, are you sure?"
"I was more used to Lewises," Robbin admitted, "but the magazines are pretty distinctive
"Oh, good man. Pass it forward."
With the weight of the Thompson in his hands and a spare magazine clamped between his knees Briers felt more able to deal with their pursuers, but Miles was obviously rattled. He took the next bend too fast, the tyres rattling on the stones at the edge of the road before the car straightened and hurtled on into the dark countryside.
"I don't suppose you've got anything else back there?" Miles asked, his voice sharp with nerves. "A small tank for instance? A Sopwith Camel. The band of the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards? Because I can see their lights. They are getting closer."
"No." There was a tense tone in Robbins voice. "But I think I may have a box of Mills bombs on the floor behind the driver's seat."

[wulfila.livejournal.com]

Now I'm hooked.

[gowarily.livejournal.com]

I applaud your research!