Smothered

May 4th, 2010. I remember the big smiles on the faces of the girls who were handing out the blankets. Karen and I were both starving. I was mad at myself for not eating the hard candy that I had taken from my daughter earlier. Little Karen had stuck a piece of the candy on the back of the puppy's neck, and it was driving the poor pooch into a spinning, maniacal hissy-fit. Finally, when the dog jumped onto the bed and dribbled the sticky candy all over it , I had had enough. "Dammit-all! Get the dirty dog off the filthy bed!" I screamed. Before I could yell another word, the frightened dog lept off the bed and onto my back, sending me into even more of a screaming rage. Somehow, I was able to grab the candy from the pup's clenched teeth and simultaneously send him peeing across the bedroom floor. I wanted to eat the candy, but I threw it at the puppy, and stormed off to the garage for a pill instead. I knew traffic was going to be hellish because we had taken such a late departure; Karen and I rode to the Ravine in silence. The smiles were comforting, alright. And the blankets were free. I felt warmth inside and outside of my clothes.
    But, by the time we had managed to muster-up some dried beef, fresh dish water, set up our bunker, and settle in for the battle, the Darger's baby-faced, boy commander was being eviscerated by the blitzkrieg attack of Milwaukee's best and bravest. The enemy guns absolutely bombarded No.22 with a multifaceted attack, knocking him from the battle, and off his little pony. The Darger hardliners fought hard to battle back from such a resounding pounding, but in the end, all sights should be readjusted on No.22's caliber.
L is for "There's NO such thing as a FREE Blanket.