Bob had his own family to raise, in the same house by the same shores, where he had always lived. His family owned that place for generations. A walk down to the beach every week was practically tradition. And so he travelled down to the beach, step by step by step, the beach was at a bottom of a cliff. And so he travelled down to the beach, step by step by step, the ground vibrated. And so he travelled down to the beach, step by step by step, he could hear the sound of a distant plane. And so he travelled down to the beach, step by step by step, he could hear the plane was getting closer. And so he travelled down to the beach, step by step by step, the plane sound dissipated. And was replaced by a high pitch whistle. And the sound got louder and louder. Bob turned the corner to see what the commotion was, he still had a ways to go to get to the bottom. He saw people pointing up, others dashing up the stairs. That was odd, there weren’t normally this many people. Then he saw the source of the sound, a fast dropping cylinder. It picked up speed as it went. And it became clear to Bob what it was. Then the cylinder hit the ground, and the city blew up in a spectacle of fire and shrapnel.

To Be Discontinued… (unless I feel like it)