SWEEP!

May 12th, 2010. There was flour everywhere. I held a broom in one hand, and a bag of flour in the other. Darger was bleeding from both of his shins. "Captain's choice." I said, and handed him the broom. "I outrank you, dummy." 
    Earlier, while I was on my breakfast walkabout, I found Darger trapped under an upturned shopping cart behind the Liquor Basket. He told me that he had tried using the cart to climb onto the wall behind the row of dumpsters that divided the Liquor Basket and the Food-4-All; he had slipped. I pushed the shopping cart off him. He didn't thank me or offer a reason why he was trying to climb the wall; he just screamed, and violently pointed to the top of it, as a barrage of boxes came hurtling over, landing in a haphazard heap, directly next to the cart. The boxes were full of day-old poultry and produce from the Food-4-All. Then, a lone bag of flour flew over the wall, and exploded in a white cloud on the cart. I said, "Put that meat in the cart, private! C'mon! I know where we can get some more flour."
    When we got to my house, Darger dutifully jumped out of the cart, and ran around to the backyard, out of sight. I parked the cart, sans Darger, under the kitchen window, and ran inside. I had hoped the simple pantry raid would go smoothly, but I forgot about one minor detail. Tidbit!
    Tidbit must have heard the shopping cart as we were coming down the street. And smelled the meat. As soon as I cracked open the door, the crazed, little pup wiggled past my feet and out through the front door. "Stupid dog!" I yelled. I wanted to go after him, but, I was on a mission. I strolled into the pantry and grabbed two bags of flour from the shelf. I heard Darger screaming. I grabbed a broom and ran outside.
    The bag of flour exploded about six inches from the kitchen window. A huge cloud of powdery, white, dust was slowly floating down to reveal Darger in his underwear, frantically trying to climb into the shopping cart. Tidbit had Darger's pants in his mouth, desperately chewing at the day-old meat smell, I suppose. Anyway, there was flour everywhere. But, I was hungry.
    "Sweep." I commanded. "I'll fry enough chicken for an army!"
W is for Self-Rising.