Bao's weblog


Meandering thoughts of a Bay Area college student… be prepared for some bipolar vocabulary

Les femmes fatales

You’re going to die, soldier. Face it. You’re never going to leave this hell hole.

Outnumbered and outgunned, we propped up several of the desks on their sides as the class screamed, lying on the floor. Commotion, commotion. Some prick threw a smoke canister into the large classroom. This mission was all political, and we were going to pay with our lives. I shot a burst of two rounds into a Korean soldier. He fell clutching his thigh, wincing.

“Don’t kill anyone! Stick to the mission!” yelled Marcus as he shot another leg. “You retard!” he yelled at another enemy soldier. He fired a second burst straight into an arm.

“Bite me!” I shouted back. I know! I know, dammit. I ducked back down to reload and Vincent took my spot. He placed a well aimed burst into a foot.

This mission was all politics, orchestrated in conjunction with Washington, the E.U., … and the leader of N. Korea himself. Ironic. This was all for show… but not for us. Politics and sanity flew out the window. We couldn’t kill any North Korean soldiers, students, or anyone else that got in our way.

The gunfire picked up again and in panic, a girl got up and ran for the door… screaming at the top of her lungs. Eddie got up and yelled. He cursed.”Crazy-assed bitch! Get down woman! GET DOW–” crack! The Delta fell in slow motion, arching back, as dramatic as ever. Eddie laid there, face up… speechless as he stroked his bloody throat in disbelief. Scarlet started to flow out of his neck and soak into his school uniform. Eddie, as motionless as ever, stared at the ceiling.

“Cover me!” yelled Joshua. He started crawling to Eddie’s body. That was when he bit it. A bullet into an arm. Another into his ear. He swore and yelled out in pain. A final round ripped into his shoulder and pierced his heart.

“We’re getting the hell out of here! Suppressive FIRE!” boomed Vincent. That’s the cue for everyone to fire all they had into the doorway to force the opposition to remain behind cover. I fired several rounds into the large panoramic window behind me. Marcus dove through the cracked window. It shattered as his body flew through. The second he declared outside to be safe, Vincent followed, shooting as he went while I continued suppressive fire. Once outside, he shot into the doorway as I made my move. Reminded me of a game of leap frog. I reloaded and made to follow when a student suddenly tried to rugby-tackle me to the floor. I kicked him away and made my clumsy escape.

We ran. We. Seriously. Ran. It rained lead. Specks of dirt and gravel accompanied our footsteps. And then BAM! We found ourselves at a parking lot. North Korea isn’t known for its cars, and many of its roads are empty save for an occasional bus. In the parking lot was a lone black limo with its engines on idle. We made a mad dash towards it. Breathless, I got the door open and Marcus got inside. Big mistake.

Inside the limo were the craziest people I would ever meet.


The people vital to this story Rashika (far left), Cassandra (far right), Marcus (second to the right)

The girl in pink pulled out a revolver and pointed it directly at Marcus.

“Drive,” she said in an icy voice, and the limo accelerated. The femmes fatales held us at gunpoint. For the first time in my life, I was resigned.

Our cello cases were still in the classroom.


Filed under: General, old, unfinished stories

The Prom/Graduation Series

A(n) (lame and vain) attempt by Bao Pham to incorporate all of his prom and graduation pictures in this harrowing, semi-serious action series! LMFAO!

ehhh… at least semi-serious for the people who are in these pictures anyways.


It’s my second day of secretly mourning as I once again reflect over that dreaded incident. But alas, there was still work to be done. I’ve led my friends of five into the lion’s den. Two of them met their ends. Even though it’s frowned upon, it’s difficult not to feel emotionally attached to them as one by one they succumbed to hails of raining hot lead. Their screams still echoed in my mind. Eerily enough, the screams were never accompanied by pleas of mercy or cries for help. Did this made me proud? Angry?

Eddie… Joshua… never again will I see them. I remembered exactly how they died…


“0300 hours. Time,” I said. Let’s get the ball rolling.


From left to right: Joshua, Vincent, Bao (me), Marcus, and Eddie

We were part of the 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta, or simply known as Delta. We’re a highly secretive special forces organization and the Pentagon publically refuses to acknowledge our existence. Twenty-four hours ago, we were dropped by submarine over the hostile waters of N. Korea to assassinate Kim Yong-nam. We dressed in the country’s national uniform that many of its citizens must wear. We were all Asian. We were all equiped with cello cases where we stowed our HK 416 assault rifles. We all carried combat knives and M1911 pistols in our jackets as well as fake IDs and North Korean Wons. Offically, we were transfer students from Vietnam and China… but we’re actually students that carried enough ammunition to kill several hundred people. Between us, we carried over 750 rounds. (30 rounds per clip, 5 clips per person)

Today at 1500 hours, Kim Yong-nam and Kim Jong-il will visit the Pyongyang University of Foreign Studies. Amidst the crowd of 10,000 students, we will make our move. However, things go wrong. The target never arrived. Instead, men and women from the Korean army rushed the school to “quell an attempt to assassinate our Great Leader.” Our entire classroom went beneath our chairs and desks simultaneously with what must be the rest of the school.

It felt kind of eerie that everyone was eyeing us suspiciously. I was pretty sure our tracks were well-covered. We all opened up our cello cases, grabbing the weapons we weren’t supposed to need.

A Korean squad entered. The leader saw us, pointed, and yelled. We opened fire.


Filed under: General, old, unfinished stories