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January 4, 2006

Ted: Dave, Out for a Jog

The flames licked at his heels as they ran through the scrubland. Bobby, eight, was lagging behind. His older brother was as just as scared, but faster. Bobby quailed at the thought of being alone, burning up like gramma's house. With a burst of speed sure to drain his strength, he flew up to Steve's side: just in time to watch him trip in a prairie dog hole.

Dave came out of the smoke, panting, and lifted them up. On leave from the Marines, the neighbor had been following them and now was their only chance of rescue. Semper Fi.

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