This base has been in my family for years
Hello, flagrunner! Welcome to the red base. These hallowed halls are a special home to me -- they've been sort of an ancestral home for my family, passed down for generations. Why, see there? The little corner? Aye, that's where as a toddler I fired my first rocket launcher. And over there is where we interred the remains of Uncle Fredo, killed tragically just moments after I fired my first rocket launcher.
Come up this ramp. See this railing here? My older brother spent his formative years here, sniping the south entrance corridor. We used to call it "closing the door." You know, "Where's Tom? We need him to close the door." Why, when Tom went off to elope, it just wasn't the same. Mom said that we'd leave his sniper perch there, just the way he left it, and he can come home to snipe any time he wanted.
C'mon, up the criss-crossing ramps. See this junction? You can nearly cover every entrance from here. Me and my dad used to spend long nights, right here, guarding this ol' base. And it was right here one hot, dry afternoon that dad turned to me and typed, "Son, take over the base for me, I gotta run out and get some cigarettes." Yep. After all those years, I was in charge of the base. I was concentrating so hard on covering the flag that I barely noticed dad packing suitcases into the trunk of his El Camino, then skidding away and engulfing our mobile home in a cloud of brown dust. We haven't seen him since.
Come this way. See this? This is the family flag. T'aint been captured since Aunt Mary keeled over while guarding the water entrance and they got away. That was a sad day for my family. Oh, we were upset about Aunt Mary, too.
Yeah, this ol' base is covered with bulletholes, but nothing a coat of paint and a little love wouldn't fix.
Score: 7.15; Total Votes: 1512 as of 2009-12-09.