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In a small villiage in Staffordshire and young man slept soundly in his bed. Just as he was dreaming of what he would do if there were girls in Stafford he was awaken by a rat a tat tat on the door. Confused on who would be calling at this hour of the morning he fell back asleep and left it for another one of his student budies to get. A good 4 hours later he awoke again to the twittering of birds on this warm sunny day. He stepped out of bed and walked towards the window, flung it open and shouted to the postem "good morning Pat, how are things?" pat replied with a raptuas "good morning Paul, have you seen your parcel?" Paul was confused and had instant panic of a terrorist attack on his temporary student home. Grabbing his P99 he raced out onto the landing. His entire body was tenced waiting for the almost inevatable gun battle he was going to have with this parcel. After one or two commando roles Paul decided to go back into his room and put some clothes on. After getting dressed he dived out of his doorway training his laser sight on the parcel. He lay there for some time just staring at the red dot projected on the parcel. He studied it from a far, it was a box. 30 cm's by 40 by 30. There was a note on top, he dived down the stairs always keeping the laser dot on the box. Just before landing he did a tripple backflip tea-cup somersault. Landing perfectly, exactly 20 cm's to the right of the box, he holstered his pistol and pulled out his combat knife. Swiverling it around his fingers in order to get a better grip while checked the box for ticking noises. Paul carefully sliced open the box while looking around the hallway for any sources of bright light that could possibly set off a light trigger. Once the cut had been made on lid of the box he opend the it. "Thank god" he thought, it was only his Saitek joystick. It had come back hopefully fully repaired. He threw the knife up the air making it spin as it flew, he rotated his back so the scareb was perfectly in line with the now falling blade. It slotted in with a resounding click. He flicked the locking catch over and carried his joystick upstairs to what would hopefully be a long and happy life of games and flight simulators.

the end


thats right i got my joystick back today. Yipeeeeeee i can now play games again!


paul


ps i just hope it works, it says they repaired it.

What a strange little man!!!!!

Thats why we have Asylums

Obvisiouly to much free time!!!  ;D

Hey Paul would'nt happen to be a little paranoid now would we?

Sounds to me you like to play the Rogue Spear games too!

i don't know about him but i sure like the rouge spear series

I love all the Rainbow 6 games.


paul

DTWD

Man you should write books Paul!  That was AWESOME!
I know EXACTLY how you feel.  Today I completed "finally" my IFR certification checkride and received my certificate which I hang proudly on my wall. My reward was 2-fold.   Sadly I retired my Wingman Extreme 3D.  I put it back in its original box looking brand new!   And then, quietly, but cauctiously, I slowly, very SLOWLY, unleased out of the brand new box >> The ULTIMATE, flight stick... OH my, what a beautiful looking devise...  YESSSSSSSSSSS!!!   The Microsoft Force Feedback 2.    



LATE!

Not to brag but I think I could take anyone here in Rogue Spear  ;D

don't be so sure

You may be able to take me, but my team will have your ass!


paul

on the special DVD copy of this story theres an alternate ending...
"Once the cut had been made on lid of the box he opend the it.
[glb]KA-BOOOOOM!!![/glb]
The house erupted with bright red flames and thick black smoke, shards of cardboard, chippings of brickwork and cuts of paper few into the air...
one of the piceces of paper landed on the pavement, on it read
'Sorry to give your hopes up paul, this isnt your joystick. Instead its a large block of PT-4. hope you like it
Andy'
a long way away in shropshire, Andy swiveled around in his leather chair, stroking his cat, Kipper. the shockwave of the blast could be heard from miles away. he started cackling in self achievement"

Im sorry that's even worse

2 hours later a Black-hawk lifted off from Farah heading North Westerly. Meanwhile at Karachi airbase Steven, Paul's friend of 5 long combat ridden years, was standing out side of hanger B. He checked his watch, turning to David Moranaz, a French born combat pilot of the highest degree, he said, "they should just be taking off about now, you better go get her ready". David looked up from his book and replied, "Hey chill man, we got ages". He was right; it would take the Black-hawk even at full pelt a good couple of hours to reach them. They could afford to relax a while. But still Steven was anxious. If someone could kill Paul then surely it wouldn

Steven hadn