We pause to lock our bikes to a tree.
My two trusty companions
And me.
Suddenly the ground starts to shake,
A frigid blast of cold wind whips down from the North and
The air is filed with a high pitched whine.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up,
I have a bad feeling about this.
Then I see the first ones come over the rise.
The surging adrenaline slows time
I turn to the faces of my young friends,
Desperate to meet their eyes,
Panic fills my voice.
"THEY'RE COMING!!
RUN FOR IT!!!"
We jettison their locks and their helmets,
Running for safety.
We do not speak again until we are barricaded safely inside,
"What was that, Dad?"
He pants, out of breath.
"A tween birthday party, son.
There had to have been at least twenty of them,
And they're still out there.
Quick - to the cookie dough while there is still time!"
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