D snorted. 'Gotta be prepared.' He looked up at Jack's face, frowning. 'What?' Jack shrugged. 'It's just... ' He sighed. 'I'm starting to see words like 'accessory' and 'accomplice' floating around my head.' D barely reacted. 'How about 'dead on arrival'? Ya like that better?' Jack nodded, pressing his lips together. 'Get more ammo. Ammo is good.
The thing about being a songwriter, once you realize you are one, is that to provide ammo, you start to become an observer. ... You're constantly on the alert. That faculty gets trained in you over the years: observing people, how they react to one another, which in a way makes you weirdly distant. ... It's a little of Peeping Tom, being a song-writer.
It's a weird smile, but it reaches his eyes and I bottle it. And I put it in my ammo pack that's kept right next to my soul and Justine's spirit and Siobhan's hope and Tara's passions. Because if I'm going to wake up one morning and not be able to get out of bed, I'm going to need everything I've got to fight this disease that could be sleeping inside of me.
I wrote a novel about an economic/environmental collapse titled 'Soft Apocalypse,' and that's definitely the sort I'm best prepared for. To write the novel, I did a lot of reading on what we might expect, so at the first sign, I'm ready to convert all of my assets to gold and ammo and stock up on freeze-dried food.
And speaking of on board, she'd moved into John's room properly. In his closet, her leathers and her muscles shirts were hanging next to his, and their shitkickers were lined up together, and all her knives and her guns and her little toys were now locked up in his fire proof cabinet. Their ammo was even stacked together. How frickin' romantic.
The enemy advances and you tremble. They've better numbers, you say. Better weapons. Better training. But I do not fear, and neither should you. For what they have in material, they lack in conviction and care. But not us. We have discipline. We have order. And most importantly, we have passion. We believe! So maintain vigilance. Conserve your ammo. Ensure a proper line of sight. And above all else, men, do not fire until you see the whites of their eyes.
It took a qualified wizard to detect a summoning in progress. It required only a half-literate idiot with a twitch of power and a dim idea of how to use it to attempt one. Before you knew it, a three-headed Slavonic god was wreaking havoc in downtown Atlanta, the skies were raining winged snakes, and SWAT was screaming for more ammo.
GOIN' HUNTIN' WELL ME AN' MY BUDDIES WE GOT US SOME BEER AND A GREAT BIG BOTTLE OF RYE AND BOXES OF AMMO AND GUNS TO GO WITH 'EM AND GOOD OLD CHARLIE'S GLASS EYE WELL WE LOOKED ALL AROUND SO WE SEES ALL OF NATURE SO CALM AND SO SERENE BUT NOT FOR LONG 'CAUSE WE'RE GONNA USE GUNS TO MAKE FURRY ANIMALS SCREAM
I hang out with my dad mostly, my dad was in the military. He's at that age now where his war stories and other stories have blended together, so now you don't know what he's talking about. One time, we were surrounded, then we ran out of ammo, then we were fighting hand-to-hand, then we started dancing, and that's how I met your mother.
Imagine someone sitting alone in a room without television, radio, computer or phone and with the door closed and the blinds down. This person must be a dangerous lunatic or a prisoner sentenced to solitary confinement. If a free agent, then a panty-sniffing loser shunned by society, or a psycho planning to return to college with an automatic weapon and a backpack full of ammo.
As an actor, some of the most fun days I've had on set have involved shooting blanks all day - or better yet, on a micro-budget indie shoot in Texas, shooting live ammo. I feel guilty admitting this, but make-believe beating a man half to death for nine hours can also be strangely satisfying and, dare I say, good fun.
Trieste Kelly Dunn
Remember the three rules of vampire hunting. One: Never, ever look them in the eyes. Two: Never, ever give up your cross. Three: Aim for the head and heart. Even with silver ammo, it won't be a killing blow anywhere else." I felt like a kindergarten teacher sending her kiddies off to a hostile playground. "Don't panic if you get bitten. The bite can be cleansed. As long as they don't mesmerize you with their eyes, you can still fight.
Laurell K. Hamilton
Every time we killed a thousand Bugs at a cost of one M.I. it was a net victory for the Bugs. We were learning, expensively, just how efficient a total communism can be when used by a people actually adapted to it by evolution; the Bug commisars didn't care any more about expending soldiers than we cared about expending ammo. Perhaps we could have figured this out about the Bugs by noting the grief the Chinese Hegemony gave the Russo-Anglo-American Alliance; however the trouble with 'lessons from history' is that we usually read them best after falling flat on our chins.
Robert A. Heinlein
Frazier soaked it all up like a sponge. When they arrived in Manila it was the same story. Ali poured scorn on his opponent. Humiliated him. Joe had the heart of a lion but verbally he was out of his depth when Ali got going. One time, as fight day approached, Ali spotted Frazier on a hotel balcony, grabbed a security guard's gun and fired some rounds at him. Everybody knew it wasn't live ammo but it still startled the hell out of Joe.] Go back in your hole, Gorilla, You gonna scare the people! Come out again and I'm gonna kill ya before time!"
Number one, we need to get in shape, number two we need to shoot, number three, we need to learn self-defense, and number four, we need to study small-unit tactics... If you do not have 5,000 rounds of .223, 5,000 rounds of .22 and 1,000 rounds of handgun ammo, as a MINIMUM, you're wrong. We need to train our families how to shoot as well. We need to get food. We need to have a year's supply of food, two years supply of seeds, we need to have a year's supply of sundry items. That's what it means to be an American. We prepare for the worst but hope for the best.
MONEY AND MULTIPLE GUNSHOTS ARE SHOWN, LARGE AMPS ARE BLOWN NIGGAZ IN LOW-LOWS, PURSUIN MO' HOES, THEN GO HOME THE LIFE OF A CALIFORNIA STAR, AND WHEN YOU SEE ME IN THE DROP-TOP JAG', HOW MANY NIGGAZ WANNA BE ME? GAME IS AUTOMATIC, MANDITORY I SELL TO LIVE OR DIE, I SURVIVE, BUT WITH A STORY TO TELL CAUSE WHEN YOU GETTIN SOME RICHES, WATCH FOR DUMB BITCHES THEY HAVE YOU LABELLED A RAPIST BEFORE YOU GET TO TONGUE-KISSIN IT'S A MEAN WORLD NIGGA YOU STRAPPED, OR BE A THROWAWAY WILL I SURVIVE THE LATE NIGHT, TO SEE DAWN OF DAY? NOBODY KNOWS ME, I'M A SHADOW MY ARMY FATIGUES MADE FOR BATTLE, POCKETS FULL OF AMMO CAUSE WHEN I'M OUT IN THE STREETS, I'M ON POINT, WHERE THE STATIC? TOO MANY DONE DIED FROM SEMIS, SO NOW WE AUTOMATIC I DISSAPEAR WHENEVER HEATED, RIDE WHENEVER NEEDED FOR MY NIGGAZ UP IN CLENTIN GETTIN WEEDED CONTINUE TO ROLL UNTIL I'M OLD, RIDE UNTIL I DIE SUPPLY LONG AS YOU MOTHERFUCKERS BUY MY HOMIES ROLLED BY IN A BUCKET, BUT THEY AIN'T SHORT AND DUCKIN SLAPPIN NIGGAZ KNOWN FOR TELLIN BITCHES FUCK-IT IN THE LATE NIGHT