Pool_1

After they exited through the front door toward safety in the street, the little crusader spun back inside, across the parlor to the rear door and gave his biggest hop, skip and jump landing with both feet squarely on Karl's balls. Karl's scream could be heard for blocks. OK, one set of balls accounted for. The little fellow tripped quickly away fearing a hot pursuit which didn't come. "This isn't over," he muttered, and papa Sumner did not really have a gun. Resourceless, this ten year old could only conjure dreams of dragon slayers and enchantments. His role as protector only firmed as each emerging dream folded in succession to reality. "Need a plan," he thought over and over again as the one constant in his own young universe, Karl, persisted. His act was a diversion, not a solution. Without a solution, this problem could only get worse. It needed resolution. But what? Think. Think, damn it! Who fights evil? Really. To whom do you turn for sheer fire power? Think! Oh. Duh. You need to ask? Don't you know anything? The marines! Dummy, you turn to the marines. Haven't you seen the billboards? There were a few at the recruiting office who were more than willing to beat the shit out of Karl. Karl became a Marine training exercise as the locals looked the other way in approval. It wasn't the law, but what had law done? Warnings? Restraints? Bullshit. You want to know what justice is? Hmm? It isn't a blindfolded whore with scales. It's a small kid tossing his middle finger to a tyrant. A child with a big mean fucker Marine standing behind him, ready to kill. The Marines kept the peace, for a while. We, and all we know, are the children of Time, who consumes his spawn. There were reassignments as process drifted and sifted. There had to be a more permanent answer. Yet, they seemed to be the only answer. Time. Plenty had passed, but the lad was still too young... The Marines. Do