Disclaimer: If there is anyone out there actually believing in me trying to get money out of writing this or even me owning those characters he is hopefully locked away securely and far away from any lawyer that might try to sue me for this piece of fan fiction. I don't even really like Weiß Kreuz
There is no place like Crawford, Texas.
Somewhere on a random street in a random town of a random country, by chance a random man got into a conversation with two other random persons in a random situation. (Well maybe some of the parameters described here were not so random, but who cares)
"Hey dude. Whats up man. Fancy white suit. What's your name man?"
"Crawford."
"Crawford? Ehy That's cool. Eh you like cows, don't you?"
"Pardon?"
"Yeah cows man. Ehy with a name like that... get it?"
"Not Really."
"You know Crawford like the town were the ranch is?"
"Ranch?"
"Yeah like President Bush. You know"
"No?"
"Of course every body knows man. That's were the president's Ranch is! Crawford, Texas! Its famous!"
"You are comparing me to some backwoods village that is known for dairy products and a lousy politician?"
"Eh dude it's just the name. You.."
Crawford shot the annoying little pest right between the eyes splattering what technically had been his brain all over the area, prompting his red headed companion to intervene in the conversation: "Hey Crawford. I mean its not really a waste for humanity but...."
"Don't say anything, Schuldig. He had it coming. He was the third today. What the fuck is wrong with these people?"
The man known as Crawford silently tucked away his gun and they walked in silence for a while.
After some time had passed his companion spoke anew.
"You really don't like that place, do you?"
"No!"
"Interested in a nuclear warhead?"
"You can get one?"
"Sure. "
The moral of the story: never piss of Brad Crawford. It might cause World War III. (Well besides the end of your own life.)
