Timmy

Given the circumstances, I wouldn't put it below anyone to take it from the small child and use it for fuel. But then again, the child could die....meh. That's not the point. The point is that we're at war. Let me tell you a story.

Timmy

It began in the deep wild of Spanish Fork. Timmy crawled out of the log, covered in syrup and leaves. He had been hiding from the enemy for days, subsisting only on waffles and select toppings. As he walked through the field towards the highway, he thought of the last time he saw his family...three days ago on his way to school. It seemed to be almost a dream now. A dream that only a small wooden calf could have. As he got to the highway, he realized that he had only two options. 1. Dance like an Irishman. 2. Kill everyone. His legs were tired from sitting in the log and pumping the bellows to make the fire for to cook his waffles. So he opted for violence. Timmy pulled out his nerf gun and loaded it. Was he ready? Could he pull it off? He took the first shot, an old woman crossing the street with her pet iguana. He nearly missed, but luckily hit her right between the eyes. She looked at him and smiled. Then she fell over and the iguana began licking her arm. Could it really be that easy? Timmy took another shot at the  mechanic across the way. The mechanic screamed, and then stopped screaming and went back to work. This was going just as he had expected. Then Timmy died.