“Do it. Chicken!” they all bawked at him, pecking the air.
He needed new friends.
“Fine. Hold the fence down.” If he could do just this one thing to prove himself things would change.
No more ‘Pee Pants Willy,’ the mockery of Ms. Steven’s 5th Grade.
Looking around nervously he took off toward the old silo. The dying weeds crunched under his quick footfalls like potato chips.
Skidding to a stop he tagged the hot rusted steel but he didn’t run back. Looking through a fallen metal panel he could see some cracked black and white paint. A nuclear missile.
Danny Machal May 14th, 2015