Bonjour, Ladies, Gents, and non-Centenary athletes!
Dr. Spockstrom and I were out enjoying our pre-dawn walk, as usual. Our banal chit-chat was limited, as usual.
About half-way through I turned off the flashlight and said:
You know, when its not so hot and humid and you don’t feel mostly dead, life’s pretty good.
And that’s when the shot was fired. At us. Walking down the road. By a guy hidden in the shadows on his front porch.
We know this because we stopped to look. We didn’t take off running or drop and roll, we turned to face the maniac and gave him a bigger target.
I’m not sure what the moral of this story is or should be, but I hope that after getting shot at, my day improves.