A savory scent of glorious victory saturated the warm summerlike atmosphere this day. After weeks, nay years, of disciplined training and strategic planning this would undoubtedly be my perennial achievement of king for a day.
There I was, nearing my finish line, my goal, my destiny, the almighty grit and brevity I had to conjure to get here. The dedication, wherewithal, and Herculean effort to cast myself into infamy is awaiting my grasp.
My trusting dog, his name is Fallacy, was at my side through all of my blood, sweat, and tears. He pushed me to be better. When I felt like giving up, he would not let me. He is my hero and I am proud to be his human. I trained my dog, Fallacy, to train me.
With one foot across and one foot to follow, an uncalculated flaw threatened my foreordained victory. Then tragedy struck like lightning and my reach for the unreachable star was abruptly ended – the horror, the horror…
I had nearly broken my own record of 18 shopping bags transferred from vehicle to home in one carry. However, alas, my cherished box of Cracker Jacks had dislodged itself from a miscreant plastic bag and it fell to the ground, as did my dream, just millimeters from the very threshold of glory.
Crushed and defeated, I have only this advice; do not fly too close to the sun on the wings of shopping bag carrying records, there just may be a box of Cracker Jacks waiting to crush the essence, and soul, of life itself.
I said, “Oh, come here Fallacy; help me lick my wounds of yet another failure. That a boy, we will get through this together, pal…”