Note: I wrote this story for my senior English class in high school. Reading it now causes me to cringe severely. It’s painfully bad in some respects, particularly in the way it mashes a hard Christian message on at the end despite being full of outlandish gore and alcohol consumption. It strikes me as very much the product of a Christian teen (it’s very teenagery) who was trying to cleverly push the boundaries while also maintaining a foot in the Christian camp. However despite it’s glaring flaws, it fascinates me because of how well it captures the creative and cultural influences that were active in my life during high school. The writing is heavily influenced in particular by three sources I clearly hear in the background of some passages: I hear the early Internet (particularly an old web series called Grudge Match) in the irreverent comedy and outlandish violence; I hear Tom Clancy, particularly Clear and Present Danger, in the descriptions of the elf commandos; and I hear Frank Peretti’s Christian supernatural novels (This Present Darkness and Piercing the Darkness) in the closing section. Rereading this now is a vivid reminder of how much I liked all three of those things then. A few months after this, I started my five years at Bob Jones University, during which time I turned away from the ‘worldly’ aspects of this story and began to invest ever more heavily both intellectually and emotionally in the Gospel elements captured in the closing section. I have not cleaned up any of the many typos in this piece. (DL, Sept. 19, 2021)

Once upon a time, there was an old, fat, philandering lawyer named Daddy Mack. Now Daddy Mack had two loves in his life, beer and guns,  a deadly combination at best. One Christmas Eve, Daddy Mack had been celebrating in his customary fashion, when he decided that he wanted to shoot himself a nice buck for Christmas dinner. Therefore, Mack trundled off to his gun cabinet to select the perfect weapon for the occasion. After several moments of reflection, he settled on his pride and joy, a mini-gun that he had purchased from some Arab terrorists after seeing Terminator 2. He loaded up a backpack with sufficient ammo for about 15 seconds of automatic carnage, and strolled over to his wardrobe, where he selected a black leather jacket, and motorcycle boots. He then grabbed his Terminator 2 soundtrack, stuffed it into his discman, donned his shades and headed for the garage. He loaded all his gear onto his Harley, kicked the starter, and crashed through the garage door, singing “Bad to the Bone” at the top of his lungs.