A HIGHLANDER'S PROMOTION

Private ‘Brick Mann” was caled up first. The usual pleasantlies are said by Honeybadger, followed by silence. An observant reader would have remebered my mention of rifles being carried by the Highlanders, this wasn’t just for show. “Present arms” cries out an officer to the line, the metallic shuffle of weapons fills the room as the troops take aim at their comrade. In a mere few seconds a promotion has eerily become a firing squad.

Before I can think theee officer yells “Fire” initating a melody of bullets whizz and bolts click. Honeybadger pulls me back as a bullet whistles through my notepad sending it flying. “Hold fire” yells an officer rearing his head from the smoke of the rifles. As sight is restored we’re graced with a perculiar sight, our aformentioned private lies flat to the floor. His uniform is in tatters, some scrapes and cuts from bullets drawing little blood, yet alive and well. Looking over to Honey she gives me a grin handing my ruined notepad back before raising an tankard of ale in salute.

“Hurrah” applauds the church as Highlanders cheer and grab drink from themselves. While some might see this group as an unruly mob of misfits and undiscipline the spirit here is undeniable. For the Highlanders they see this as one of their highest traditions surviving generation by generation, war by war. Best I sign off for now as Honey is trying to hoax me into a turn at dodging bullets, they wouldn’t shoot a reporter right?