July 24, 2012

Something to Think About

I am sure that by this time everyone has heard of the tragic Colorado shooting that took place when a 24 year-old man stormed a midnight screening of The Dark Knight Rises and unleashed a torrent of senseless violence on unsuspecting moviegoers. Before, I continue I want to express how truly saddened I am by this news. I have no words which can even begin to describe the tragedy of this event. My thoughts are with the families and survivors.

I have been hesitant to address this issue as I feel that any sort of platitudes or condolences I can offer would just seem empty. Everyone from President Obama to Howard Stern has expressed their concern, meanwhile the media continues to exploit and sensationalize this as they do everything else. Right now, I do not know what I can add to the conversation. It would be cliche and distasteful to draw any correlations between the movie and the incident, and would miss the point completely.

I think what really brings this horror home is that even while it was happening I was sitting in a theater thousands of miles away with my own friends partaking of the very same movie that the victims had set out that night to see. Being the midnight opening for a popular comic book movie only further deepens this tragedy for me. I think of the type of people who would attend a Thursday midnight opening of a Batman movie, and I know many of them were very much like myself. I can only imagine my own night of anticipation and joy ending so terribly.

Amongst all the news coverage and the milieu of opinions on this event we need to make sure that the one thing that does not get lost are the victims. I found a poignant article by the Washington Times columnist Eric Golub, of which I would like to share a portion. 
--We say we will never forget, but let's be honest. Many of us will. When the news cycle changes, a dozen people will fade from our consciousness. 
This cannot happen. Not this time. Nine of the twelve victims were between ages 23 and 32. One was eighteen. One was only six years old. Another was 51, and his children are now orphans. One of the victims was celebrating their birthday. 
Commit their names to memory. 
Jonathan T. Blunk, 26: Mr. Blunk lost his life shielding his girlfriend, Jansen Young, pushing her beneath the seat and laying infront of her. Formerly in the Navy, Mr. Blunk worked at a hardware store in Colorado at the time of the shooting. 
Alexander J. Boik, 18: "The life of the party," Mr. Bolk had a love of softball, movies and hoped to become an art teacher. 
Jesse E. Childress, 29: An Air Force reservist, Jesse Childress loved sports, the Denver Broncos, comic books and superhero movies. The Denver Post reported that Mr. Childress had recently named his new car the "Batmobile." Mr. Childress was at Buckley Airforce Base. 
Gordon Cowden, 51: "He will be remembered for his devotion to his children and for always trying his best to do the right thing, no matter the obstacle," a family statement said.  Mr. Cowden was attending the movie with his children, both of whom survived.  
Jessica Ghawi, 24: An aspiring sports journalist, Jessica Ghawi’s mother describes her as a person "easy to fall in love with."  Ghawi survived the shootings at a Toronto mall last month, blogging about that experience: 
"I was shown how fragile life was on Saturday. I saw the terror on bystanders’ faces. I saw the victims of a senseless crime. I saw lives change. I was reminded that we don’t know when or where our time on Earth will end. When or where we will breathe our last breath." 
John T. Larimer, 27: Petty Officer John T. Larimer joined the Navy in 2012. He was stationed at Buckley Air Force Base in Colorado. 
"I am incredibly saddened by the loss of Petty Officer John Larimer -- he was an outstanding shipmate," Larimer's commanding officer, Cmdr. Jeffrey Jakuboski, said. 
Matthew McQuinn, 27: One of the stories extreme heroes, Matthew McQuinn of St. Paris, Ohio, died after diving on top of his girlfriend Samantha Yowler. Ms. Yowler’s brother had gone to the film with the couple, brother and sister both survived. 
Micayla Medek, 23: A recent graduate from William C. Hinkley High School in Aurora, Ms. Medek was planning a trip to India, but first she was attending the College of Aurora.  
Veronica Moser, 6: The youngest to lose her life, Veronica had just learned to swim. She was at the movie with her mother Ashley Moser who remains in critical condition in the hospital after gunshots to the neck and abdomen.  
Alex M. Sullivan, 27:  Celebrating his birthday with a midnight show, Mr. Sullivan would have celebrated his first wedding anniversary with his wife, Cassie, over the weekend. According to the San Francisco Chronicle, Alex's family has called him their "real life superhero." 
Alexander Teves, 24: "One of the best men I ever knew. The world isn't as good a place without him," a friend says of Mr. Teves. Mr. Teves loved Spider-man and his alma mater, the University of Arizona. He had just earned his master's degree in counseling psychology from the University of Denver. 
Rebecca Wingo, 32:  Ms. Wingo’s father posted to his Facebook page "I lost my daughter yesterday to a mad man, my grief right now is inconsolable, I hear she died instantly, without pain, however the pain is unbearable." 
Now add in 59 more people who were wounded but lucky enough to survive. Now multiply all of these people by their families, their friends, and acquaintances who interacted with them frequently if not daily. So many more people were hurt, and will continue to hurt. Reaching out to them could prevent the tragedy from being compounded.
I don't know them. I never met them. For me, telling their stories would be impossible. For those who want to honor their memory, add to these paragraphs. Tell their stories.--
I know this is not the first or (unfortunately) last event of this kind, but for me it is especially poignant. I love superheroes and comics. They give us hope for ourselves and our world. They make us want to be better people and give us examples of heroism, kindness, and courage. Most importantly, they teach us that we can all be heroes in our own way, and they show us that even among all the bad and evil in the world we can still find true goodness. I believe that is something we can all stand to remember a little more.

So please think of the victims of this crime and their families, and though you may never meet them there are still many others in this world in need of help. As we move forward I can only ask that you never be afraid to reach out and help those you see around you, even if it is only something as simple as lending your ear to listen. Sometimes a kind word or a show of compassion can make all the difference in people's lives. There are no superheroes, but that just means we have even more responsibility to be the heroes that other people need us to be.

July 18, 2012

Quest for the Golden Amulet

Heartsmashingbonecrusher son of
Kickassheadstomper. Warden of the Distant
Mountains, and Beater of Ass
In a land of myth and a time of magic. When the ancient gods were petty and cruel, and they plagued mankind with suffering. The land in turmoil cried out for heroes...

We find two such heroes standing together in what could be their final battle. Back to back, Fedrin the Brave and Heartsmashingbonecrusher the Dwarf, now find themselves surrounded by a horde of snarling menacing orcs. Their foes will be satisfied by nothing other than blood and death. Could this be the last stand of our two heroes?

"I hope not," says Fedrin. He swings his sword at the first of his foes.

The weapon impacts with the orc, but the creature remains standing.

"That's not fair," says Fedrin. "How many hit points can this guy have? And how much is a 'horde' anyway?"

The horde facing our two heroes is of an indeterminate number. There are too many for our heroes to count.

"I hate it when you do that," says Heartsmashingbonecrusher. "I am going to count them."

The dwarf tries hard to spot the enemy's number, but fails in his attempt to count.

"How could I fail?" said Heartsmashingbonecrusher. "It's just counting?"

The dwarf is horrible at counting, especially in the midst of a battle. Also the dwarf has no ranks in Spot. However the small warrior may now take his turn to fend off the menacing horde.

Heartsmashingbonecrusher raises his crossbow and fires.

The bolt sails way over the heads of the orc hordes and disappears somewhere in the distance.

"Why the hell would you use a crossbow?" asks Fedrin.

"I already used my movement to make my Spot attempt."

That is when the dwarf remembers that in this instance we agreed Spot could be used as a free action, similar to all the talking that Fedrin and Heartsmashingbonecrusher are allowed to do, despite the obvious waste of time it takes to talk.

"Well, its still a good opening move. Now I didn't waste my movement by closing the distance between me and the orcs," replies Heartsmashingbonecrusher.

"They're only ten feet away. You wouldn't have wasted anything, and you suck with a crossbow. You're not even proficient in it. Why do you even have one?"

"I'll pick up my proficiency at my next level. I like having a ranged weapon for times like this."

"Times like this? Wouldn't you think it might work best if every attack we made counted for something? We're facing an undetermined amount of orcs, thanks to someone I won't name..."

That is when suddenly more orcs appear from the skies riding wyverns. Their spears gleam in the morning sun as they take aim at our heroes.

"You can't just do that!" says Fedrin.

That is when the elf remembers that it is okay, because the wyvern riders will not be able to move or attack until the next round of initiative takes affect, and that he should shut up or next time it will be hell hounds.

The orc who Fedrin swung at with his sword takes a swing of his own. He brings his razor sharp axe down hard on the Silvan headed elf, but the weapon misses as Fedrin is too quick to be hit by the slower orc. Then the next orc steps up to take his chance...

Fedrin Lawnmower the Brave,
Keeper of the Flame, wielder of
the Blade of Jeremy
"Seriously," said Fedrin. "We are going to go through every orc. Can't they just attack as a 'horde' instead of one at a time?"

The elf realizes that if that were to happen their attack modifiers would be more than he or his dwarven friend could possibly handle. They would be slaughtered in an instant.

"Okay," replies Fedrin, "but can you at least tell us how many there are."

"I'm getting a soda," says Heartsmashingbonecrusher. "Does anyone else want one?"

The dwarf receives a divine message that tells him to also get the bag of chips in the cupboard and a bottle of water for the great being in control of his destiny.

"Destiny?" says Fedrin. "We are going to be freaking overrun with orcs and this thing hasn't even started yet. Why is it that whenever we finally start Heartsmashingbonecrusher suddenly needs a drink."

The elf has a feeling that everything will be fine if he just calms down goes with it.

"I heard that," said Heartsmashingbonecrusher. "I need something to drink so my throat doesn't dry up. I also got the chips and your water."

The dwarf experiences a sensation of thankfulness and love as if the divine is smiling down on him.

"Can we get on with this?" asked Fedrin.

The next orc steps up and takes a swing at Heartsmashingbonecrusher. His jagged and rusty sword raises high in the air and comes whistling down with deadly purpose. The blade finds its mark, but because of the dwarf's armor it has little effect.

"I love wearing armor," says Heartsmashingbonecrusher.

"Except that time in the river when you drowned," says Fedrin.

"That wasn't because of the armor. I was carrying too much stuff."

"You're the only one who follows Encumbrance rules," says Fedrin.

As the two heroes are fighting amongst themselves a dragon appears and begins burning the orc hordes with his fire breath. The heat is so intense, it feels like the burning of a thousand suns. The elf knows now why he should have had more faith.

"Again with the dragon?" says Fedrin. "Why does there always have to be a dragon?"

"It is in the title of the game..." says Heartsmashingbonecrusher.

"No," says Fedrin "this is the last straw I'm done with this. Let's do something else, I don't care. How about a video game, Magic, freaking Stratego for all I care. I'm sick of playing the same storyline over and over again."

The elf feels the overwhelming urge to explain his statement.

"What I mean is that there is a dragon. Next there will be a wizard or a necromancer who needs something, a spell or an amulet. We'll have to go on a quest to find it, there will be at least one tavern brawl along the way. We'll find out that the amulet has actually not been stolen from the wizard, but that in fact we are stealing it for him and it turns out he is going to be a d%ck. Its the same thing over and over and over again. Read a new book or at least think up something different. Call me when you do. I'm outta here."

"Fedrin, come back," says Heartsmashingbonecrusher. "Well, we can't play with just us. I'm going home too."

The two heroes are suddenly overrun by the orcish hordes and simultaneously consumed by dragon fire, because they are both jerk-offs. The end.



July 11, 2012

Dropping Some Eaves

GTL: Games, Thrones, and Laundry
I was on vacation last week at the Jersey Shore (The real Jersey Shore and not the appalling televised version.) However, while I was relaxing on the sands I was fortunate enough to overhear one of the most entertaining book summaries of my life. So I submit for your entertainment: Game of Thrones as explained by the Italian-American gentlemen sitting next to me at the beach.


"So Sheila, got me this book... you know that HBO show... Crown of Thorns... Throne of Swords... something like that. Whatever, we don't have HBO but we heard it was good. I tell you this book is the most confusing thing I've ever read. There are so many damn characters I have to reread pages like two or three times to remember who everyone is."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I've heard that was good though..."

"Oh it is. I can tell you I knew this was going to be a good book when I got to this part where this kid was climbing on the castle, and he's a good climber, but he's climbing this castle and he sees the Queen banging this guy, and this guy ain't the king. So he's climbing, like really high up, and he sees this in the window and then he almost slips, but the guy who was banging the Queen catches him. So he's hanging out the window holding onto this guy and this guy is like, 'You know who I am?'

"The kid does, because he knows that's the Queen, and the guy turns and looks at her and is like 'The things I do for love,' and then he throws the kid out the window."

"No sh*t."

"Yeah, and you know who the guy was with the Queen? It was her brother. He was fricking banging his sister, man."

"So he just killed that kid?"

"Nah, but they try to kill him again. This guy comes into his room while he is still out cold from the fall and tries to kill him. His mother, who is another queen, tries to fight off this guy who has a knife, but then the guy totally gets ripped to hell by the kid's direwolf... that's like a really big dog, like bigger than a fricking horse."

"Sounds like a good book."

"Yeah, the only one I can't figure is the one king's bastard, Jon. I just don't know what that guy is about. He goes off to stand guard on this giant wall, where he trains be like a warrior, but he can't ever have sex again."

"That sucks."

"Yeah, but when he is training, the one instructor guy tells him that he is arrogant, and its true. You don't really think about it, but he says to Jon like, 'You're arrogant. All these other boys are the sons of farmers and poor people.' They'd never touched a sword before they went there, and this Jon character was trained by his father the king. He's the best fighter but its easy to beat a bunch of shmucks who never knew how to fight before.

"I can't figure this Jon character out. I don't know if he is going to be a good guy or a bad guy. I haven't finished the book, but I don't know how he's going to turn out."

"Is it a good book? Forgetaboutit."
"But its a good book?"

"Fricking good."

"Maybe I'll pick it up."


That is about where the conversation ended and moved to other topics that interested me less, like sports. I write this not so much because I found it amusing, (I did,) but because it only further illustrates a point I made in a previous blog, nerd culture is becoming more mainstream. I never thought the day would come when I overheared a conversation about a high fantasy book series talked about in voices closer to that of Tony Soprano than Eddard Stark.

If my two beach neighbors had glanced over at anytime during their conversation they would have found me with a grin wider than my face. Somebody should tell MTV that the Jersey Shore is little more nerdy than they may think.


July 5, 2012

Slaying the Hornet

A Visual Approximation, (Except our
foe was bigger, faster, was wielding a
kitchen knife, and was anti-semetic.)
"Dad, we have a hornet's nest in the beach house," I heard my friend Chris say over the phone to his aforementioned parental figure. "Shawn, saw several of them in the kitchen."

"I saw two, maybe even the same one twice..." said Shawn.

"He saw a couple," he said again.

"One, maybe two," I said.

"Yeah there is a whole nest in the house," said Chris over the phone.

This was how my visit to the shore began, a complete exaggeration, but none of us could be sure of that at the time. All we knew was that there was a big, pterodactyl-like hornet trapped in the kitchen area of the beach house, and it had fallen to us three to slay this mighty beast, like a questing party of old. The only complication was that I knew very little magic, Chris could not swing a battle axe to save his life, and Shawn was a lousy healer.

First, we circled the house in search of a nest of some sort, but failing that we knew we had to confront the problem head-on.

"Do we have any wasp spray?" asked Chris over the phone. I watched as Chris' face fell at the answer. "It's under the sink in the kitchen."

"In other words, we have to get by the hornet to kill the hornet," said Shawn.

That was how moments later I found myself volunteered for the recovery and reconnaissance mission. I stood before the closed wooden door that separated the living room from the kitchen area. I opened it with the caution of a man opening a bomb casing, and gazed inward. I saw nothing.

"Don't let that door come open," said Chris. "Don't let that door come open. Don' let that door come open!"

As I continued my inspection of the room in front of me, the door continued to creak open until I was standing fully in its frame. In the distant part of my mind that controlled rational thoughts I knew I should not have let the door drift that far, but in the moment I was too enthralled with finding our foe and any signs of what might be his relatives.

"It's by your f*cking leg," yelled Chris.

"Your kidding," I heard Shawn say from behind me.

I froze. I stood stock still, like a man dead in the sights of a T-Rex. If I don't move maybe it can't see me.

"It's by your leg. Close the door!" repeated Chris. "Oh God, it's coming in."

I was still standing stock still when I heard the screams from behind me followed by the rapid movement of feet. The last thing I heard was the slamming of a bedroom door as my two fearless companions locked themselves safely away from our insectoid foe.

Once I finally got my legs moving again I continued to the kitchen sink. I bent down and rifled through the cupboard and found the insect spray. I picked it up and shook it. It was empty. I now found myself alone and facing a house of hiding places and one angry hornet.

At least I confirmed that there was no nest. Unfortunately, that only meant we were facing one hornet who had probably been trapped for days without food or water. That meant it was disoriented, angry, and desperate. I have dated a few women like that and I would not want to have found them hiding in that beach house either.

Then I saw it. Our foe took wing and escaped into the adjacent and empty bedroom off the main living room. I slammed the door as quick as I could. With tentative caution I continued my inspection clutching the empty bottle of wasp poison like a man would clutch an empty gun in a zombie movie. I searched the bathroom area quickly just to make sure that there were no nests or other hornets. Finally I made my way back to the shelter of my friends and knocked softly.

"Who is it?" asked Chris.

"It's the hornet," I said. "I was hoping I could interest you in home insurance... Would you get out here!"

"Where is it?"

"I think it went in the other bedroom," I said as my two friends stumbled out of their shelter.

"Are you sure?" asked Chris.

"Yes."

"That's the best thing that could have happened. We just won't use that bedroom."

"Wait," I said. "It is only one hornet and you're going to let it kick us out of a bedroom? C'mon, we're humans. We are the top of the evolutionary ladder. We dominate this planet..."

"Insects might disagree," said Shawn.

"Maybe, but insects didn't invent something like this." I held aloft the can of insect spray.

"Great you found it." Chris took the can from me. "Its empty."

"Yeah I never said it was full," I said. "At least there is no nest. I checked the kitchen and the bathroom."

"We should go to the store to get more spray."

"I say we all just take a shoe and go in together," said Shawn.

"No, if we head to town we can gather supplies," said Chris.

"Like health potions and maybe the +2 Sword of Insecticide?" I chimed in.

"Why don't you look up on the Internet how to kill hornets in your house," said Shawn.

Chris went to the computer and came up with a few articles mostly describing the plight of desperate women and single mothers who were at their wits end in battling hornet home invasions. One suggested hair spray, the other suggested finding a man. Since the later seemed liked an unlikely possibility we went with the former. Chris headed into the bathroom to see if we had any hair spray.

Meanwhile, I got a bright idea of my own. I went to the fridge and found a grape popsicle and began mashing it down into the small neck of an empty water bottle.

"What are you doing?" asked Shawn.

"I am building a trap," I said. "If we can get the hornet to fly into the bottle after the sweet smelling grape popsicle than I can just screw the top back on and trap it in there. Once we have him trapped we can just throw him out of the house. Problem solved."

"Adam," said Chris as he came back into the living room. "I thought you said you searched the bathroom. Look what I found under the sink." Held up another can of insect spray.

"I never said I searched it well."

"What's that?" Chris asked.

"A solution to our problems." I finished my sticky and grape flavored trap and bent down to the closed door leading into the occupied bedroom. "Cover me." I opened the door and slid the water bottle into the room, closing the door as quickly as I could.

"Now we play the waiting game," said Chris.

"The waiting game sucks," I said. "Let's play Hungry Hungry Hippos."

"What does the label on that spray say?" said Shawn."

"It is a violation of Federal law to use this product in a manner inconsistent with its labeling. Never use indoors. If on skin or other clothing, take off contaminated clothing. Rinse skin immediately with plenty of water for 15 to 20 minutes. Call a Poison Control Center or doctor for treatment advice," read Chris.

"I'm sure that doesn't apply to us," I said.

"I am kind of feeling this is like Independence Day," said Chris. "Yeah we can nuke the bastards but at what cost to the environment. This may be a last resort sort of thing."

"Check the trap," said Shawn.

I opened the door a crack and peeked in. "Nothing."

"I also found pump hair spray and aerosol hairspray." Chris held the cans aloft.

Shawn took off his shoe. "I say we open the door and go in."

"Maybe that is our best bet," I said after peeking at my empty trap once again. I picked up a discarded cardboard box and rolled it up into a flat bat and tested its strength with a few quick whacks. "I think you should use the aerosol hair spray. You'll have better range."

Chris tested both. "The pump drys faster but I'm not getting that close." He chose the small can of aerosol hair spray, as I opened the door.

"I feel like I am in a Mickey Mouse cartoon," I said.
We all gazed into the room, our respective weapons at the ready, scanning for any sign of movement. There was nothing, but still we held our position. Minutes passed and passed and still none of us moved from our rooted positions outside the door. Finally, when there were no clear signs of hornets, insects, or ex-girlfriends, we did the only thing we could think of, we started throwing things.

As I peered into the room a white-clear plastic object sailed past my head. It lightly struck the blinds, but nothing happened.

"Shawn, did you just throw the cap to the bottle-trap I made?"

"Yeah it was the first thing I found."

Sighing I did the only thing I could think of. I found a nearby penny and threw it too at the blinds on the far side of the room. As we ran out of those, pennies turned into batteries, and batteries turned into a bottle of suntan lotion, and then a football. We accomplished nothing, but at least we felt like we were.

After several more minutes of waiting we finally ran out of things to throw and were forced to physically enter the room. We checked the walls, behind the door, and even the closet. There was still no indication of our target.

"Maybe it got out," said Shawn as he indicated the cracks between the air conditioner and the wall. "I bet it crawled out through there."

"How sure are you?" asked Chris.

"5% sure," said Shawn.

"Its probably by the windows," I said. "It would go toward light."

"We would see a shadow," said Chris. "Or hear it buzzing. It might be on the bed?"

"Maybe..." I tapped the back wall with my makeshift weapon. Nothing happened. I slammed it down hard on the bed nearest us and something black and angry flew up from underneath the folded comforter. I would like to say we fought valiantly, but that would be a lie. The truth of the matter is that we screamed and all of us fought like frightened school girls to get back out into the relative safety of the adjourning room. Personally, I dove head first back into the living room making a leap that would have qualified me for the Olympics under most circumstances.

"Its a fuzz," said Shawn finally. "Its just a black fuzz."

We all peeked our heads back into the room and sitting there, innocently and harmlessly, on the sheets was a small black fuzz.

"I'm telling you it got out," said Shawn.

"Then you sleep in here tonight," said Chris.

"Let's check the windows. Pull up the blinds... Shawn," I said

"Why me?"

"Because you're closer," I stepped behind him.

"Fine." My friend bent down and grabbed the shade pull-string in one hand. As he moved backward he slowly raised the shades on one window and then the other. "Nothing."

"There it is," yelled Chris.

Shawn came running at us and we all scrambled back out of the room. We reappeared a few moments later to find the hornet walking along the rim of the plastic blinds. It was watching us from the safety of the crack where no shoe could reach it.

"Hit it with the hair spray," said Shawn.

Chris stepped hesitantly forward, noticeably regretting his choice of weapons.

"I'm going to stand back in case he charges out," said Shawn to me.

"What!?! He's charging!" said Chris and he came running back into me.

"No," I said. "He was talking about you. Now go hit him with that spray."

I watched as Chris moved slowly toward his target. When he was at the most extreme range of his weapon he fired and the hornet took flight. Another scrambled panic and we were all back outside the bedroom again.

The hornet landed on the other window and the next thing I knew a stream of killer insect poison lanced out toward him and covered the window. Unfortunately the hornet had already disappeared back into the safety of the blinds.

"What happened to last resort?" I asked.

"I saw a chance," said Chris holding the bottle of Ultra-Kill Wasp & Hornet Spray. "I took it."

He put the spray down and we again found our foe nestled in the corner of the window. Chris sprayed him again with the hair spray, and then again, and then again. Each time the winged fiend seemed to get heavier and drowsier. After more than a few moments of dousing him with the feminine hair product we watched as he slipped and fell to the glass surface of the window.

"Finish him," we said to Shawn.

He moved in with his sandal held at the ready and struck like lighting. In a surprising burst of speed the hornet took off, Shawn stuck again with his other sandal, but lost both weapons in the attempt. Now unarmed he retreated back toward us, but our enemy did not get far. It collapsed to the ground spinning in place with heavy wings. I could tell he was starting to get really angry.

"Get him, Adam," said Chris, and I moved in with my cardboard weapon. At the last moment I hesitated, and instead decided to go for a more definitive strike and lifted my foot. One single smash and I could end the whole ordeal. I could be the hero who took down the monster, like David and Goliath, like Luke and the Death Star, like Peter and the Wolf (I think that analogy works...)

I slammed my foot down hard, but my hesitation was all the hornet needed. As my foot came down it took flight again. I screamed and shoved Chris and Shawn out of the way as I fled back to safety. For good measure I slammed the door behind me and grabbed onto the insect spray like a life raft.

"Now we don't know where it went," said Shawn.

"I almost died," I said.

Chris opened the door, his hair spray at the ready. We caught a fleeting glimpse of the menace as it crawled back under the blinds of the nearest window. Then, we waited, and waited, and waited.

"Go tap the blinds," said Chris handing me a long beach umbrella pole. "See if he's up there."

I walked into the room and bent down to look under the blinds. As I did I saw a very confusing sight. Outside the window a hornet like creature took flight and flew back into the sunlit day. I tapped the blinds, lightly at first then more insistently when nothing happened. I bent down again to peer under and I saw sunlight. The closer I inspected the more I realized that the back-top window pane was open at the top.

"I think its gone," I said. "I think it got out."

"How sure are you? Like 5%," said Chris.

"Like 100%," I said. I banged hard against the blinds to illustrate my point. In our struggle against the foe we must have slid the back pane open with our repeated shoe and stick blows. The hornet saw its chance and escaped back into the wild. "It's gone."

"As long as its out of here, I don't care where it went," said Chris. "Are you sure?"

I used the long pole to detach the blinds from the window. They fell off to reveal a completely hornet free environment and a large opening of sunlight streaming in.

"Okay," said Chris. "I'm convinced."

"A little anti-climatic," I said, "but at least its gone." I slammed the top window shut and we all let out a sigh of relief.

We turned our attention back to our thoughts of the beach and the vacation ahead. The ordeal had taken an hour and a half of our time, but the memory will live on. We will always remember how we (sort of) vanquished our dragon and (sort of) proved our bravery in the face of sudden and horrible danger. We never gave up, and we could sleep more soundly because of it, at least Chris and I could. Shawn had to sleep in that bedroom.