It's exactly what the title suggests: a Bambi/Rambo mash-up. Or crossover, whatever the hell you want to call it. Follow the adventures of Little Arturo, an American special soldier on a mission to find and terminate the most deadly white-tailed deer known to man. Rated R for Retarded.

The whole story is available below, for those of you who don't want to download it. Read on at your own risk.





My name is Little Arturo. I’m a soldier, on a mission to take down a certain woodland creature. One year ago, a beast known as Bambo escaped from the San Francisco Zoo. He’s a white-tailed deer, with a thirst for revenge. Nobody knows why; the only guy to figure it out was killed before the sequel was written.



After getting a manicure at my favorite nail salon, I grabbed my 12 gauge, and headed into the woods. All was silent as I crept between the trees. Even the birds were silent, probably intimidated by my rhinestone-studded nails. I wandered through the woods for a good hour until I found the rotting body of a fellow soldier. The poor guy’s flesh was almost completely eaten, and a bullet was lodged in his skull. I assumed this was Bambo’s work, and kept walking, pocketing the guy’s wallet before leaving the scene.



After several hours of walking, I finally realized that the sun had gone down, and that I was hungry. I stood my gun up against a tree, and shook it vigorously until two eggs landed with a thud next to me. I threw one against the tree just to be spiteful, then sat down with the other, wondering how best to cook it. Suddenly, a bullet whizzed right through my egg, getting dead baby bird blood all over my face and hands. I looked toward the left, and saw a white-tailed deer pointing his sniper rifle at my head.



Surprisingly, I wasn’t shot on the spot. Before Bambo pulled the trigger, I saved myself by wetting my pants and curling up into the fetal position. I sucked my thumb for extra effect, and before I knew it, Bambo had disappeared into the trees, obviously scared off by my macho tactics. I stood up and ripped my pants off as soon as he was gone, then grabbed my gun and strutted off macho-ly into the forest, where I had seen Bambo earlier.



My rhinestone thong glinted in the moonlight as I followed Bambo’s trail of empty cigarette cartons. Suddenly, the trail went dead on the banks of a large lake. I glanced at the surface of the lake, and after blindly assuming that there was no danger, lay down on the ground. I covered myself in my faux fake imitation Elvis cloak, and slept like a rockstar until sunrise.



The following morning, the sun rose slowly in the East… unlike the day before, when it rose swiftly in the West. I rubbed my eyes and yawned loudly after the sun’s rays backhanded me in the face, forcing my body into a sitting position with a low growl. Once I managed to stand up, I looked over the lake, watching random fish leap over the surface majestically. I took a deep breath, and began doing some ridiculous and unnecessary Yoga poses. In the middle of the Bean Burrito pose, I noticed something rising up from the lake that wasn’t going back down. It was a Great White shark with a laser beam attached to its head, flashing all of his teeth at me excitedly. It took me a minute to realize that Great Whites aren’t freshwater sharks, and that this shark had brown fur and antlers. In the middle of trying to figure out why I hadn’t figured that out before, someone pulled me to the ground a second before my head was blasted apart by Bambo’s laser.



I screamed like a twelve year old Mexican girl, and passed out during the following gunfight, but when I came to, I found myself in a dimly lit cave. Stalactites and stalagmites hung/sat everywhere, and a Duraflame log crackled merrily on the opposite wall from the one I sat next to. A feminine, yet masculine, voice called out from near the fire, and I crawled closer, fearing what would happen if I disobeyed the author’s wishes. I looked around for the source of the voice, and noticed a bear in a tutu whittling by the firelight. We stared each other down for a few seconds, until the bear whispered in a Russian accent, “My name Big Billy. I save you from crazy deer. Hungry, yes?”



“Umm… yes?”



Big Billy reached behind him, and handed me a plate of Big Macs. I wolfed them down as the huge bear continued his story. “I come from Mother Russia two years ago, hoping to find work in circus. Turns out I have trouble with the juggling, so there go my plan. I keep tutu, and move to forest to look for mate. Then, I realize I like man bears, but none like me. I live lonely life, stealing from campers and having gunfights with crazy deer.”



“Billy… do you know what Bambo’s problem is?”



“I think so. He believes deer are children of God, and humans are Satan’s minions. I don’t blame him, I used to watch the MTV. Anyhow, he convert to Deerism, grab guns from park rangers, and go on rampage.”



I set aside what was left of the two dozen Big Macs, and asked, “Will you help me bring down that deer?”



“I cannot. I will not kill anyone.”



“Your country needs you!”



“But I am from Mother Russia. If she need me, I go home.”



“But Bambo has your husband!”



“I am not married…”



“You are now… to America!”



I stormed out of the cave, Elvis cloak swaying in the breeze, as my patriotic theme song played loudly through the speakers I hid in the ground. Billy followed, grabbing his sharpened steel claws and a spare rifle for me to use. I took the rifle from him, and set off on a path that I hoped would lead me to Bambo. As it turned out, this path led exactly where I wanted it to, and we came face to face with Bambo quicker than you can say, “Lame transition!”



Billy and I glared at our opponent, guns and claws at the ready. Bambo merely dragged on all three of the cigarettes in his mouth, apparently unimpressed. Once all three cancer sticks were sucked down to the filter, Bambo spat them out, and grabbed a pistol from the holster on his antler. He casually shot Billy through the shoulder, but I dodge-rolled out of the way before he could turn the gun on me. As Bambo tried to line up a shot at Billy’s forehead, I came up behind him and pressed my rifle to the back of his head. I growled out, “Drop the gun,” smiling triumphantly as my theme music faded, and was replaced by epic fight scene music. Bambo dropped his gun as ordered, but spun around and knocked the gun out my hands as well, pushing me down to the ground. We rolled around for a few minutes, giggling as we tickled each other, until I regained focus, and grabbed Bambo’s pistol. He looked up at me with his sad, innocent deer eyes, and asked, “Was there no God?”



“Nope.”



I blasted a hole right through the woodland critter’s head, just as the music died down completely. Blood leaked from the wound, and all of his children crawled out of the woodwork, screaming, “NOOOOOOO!!!!?!!” I crawled over to Billy’s side, crying tears of clear, salty blood. I grabbed his paw in mine, and asked, “Are you okay, buddy?”



“I am alright. A gunshot wound to a bear is like mosquito bite to you.”



I smiled, and kissed Billy on the lips, and lay with him watching the sunset until the author decided to stop writing.



~THE END~