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One fateful night in the bowels of the bayou a scream pierced the still summer night: the Ragin' Cajun had been born. Men cowered, women fainted, children crapped their pants. But it was too late, born unto this Earth was a man, a violent man, bent on the elimination of all minors on the field of battle. The Cajun spent his early childhood learning how to dismantle his crib and use the components as shields (a skill that would serve him well in later years.) Oddly enough, he was afraid of grass at first, but the doctors calmly explained that this was probably due to the large amounts of heroine his mother had injected directly into her stomach. But the Cajun was pretty much a normal kid until Uncle Wayne showed up...
As a Christmas gift, Uncle Wayne gave the Cajun a cowboy outfit, complete with two six shooters, belt, and badge. Justice was immediately and repeatedly dispensed. He shot at everything; and even at his young age he kept a shot count in his head. He chased older kids down the street screaming that they were dead. Within' a month, the Cajun had learned that the entire neighborhood was filled with zombies. Conclusion: get a bigger gun. While staying with friends he finally got his opprotunity: an M-16 watergun, complete with sound effects. No longer could the grade school voodoo zombies laugh at his choice of ammunition. Then all hell broke loose: the Cajun got wheels. According to town folklore, the Cajun committed the first drive-by shooting in Caldwell Parish. Sure, it was with water balloons while on a bike, but the residents of the Parish will take what they can get.
This behavior escalated with the shooting of alligators with BB guns, domesticating them, then saddling them to ride. (which created more fear than the bicycle) Well, ok, that's a myth. The truth is he strapped an alligator halloween mask to the front of his bike and rode throughout the neighborhood growling. This continued through high school.
In 1995, the Ragin' Cajun came across the infamous Dre. Dre explained to him that there was a world in which you could legally shoot children and watch them cry. The Cajun asked to be teleported to this world. Dre, having incredible amounts of patience with a man who wore a flak jacket and a mexican rug jacket at once, calmly described the game of paintball. The Ragin' Cajun had found his calling. The Cajun quickly realized that his Bayou Warfare skills would be his most trusted companion. Sometimes, he'll bury himself in a ditch and wait for his prey like a crawdaddy or uproot a piece of field to aid the vanguard of his compadres. He lives for the firefight (the only thing that interupts his daydreams of cypress trees and shrimp etouffee.) But say what you will about the Ragin' Cajun, but he always fights to the last round's spent, he'll perform any task asked of him, and God help you if his barrel gets clogged because he'll yank it off and chase you, never slowing on the trigger.
