She’d experienced many trying trials in her long career as a flag capturer—but ne’er as trying as the 1 she ran into on her way down the milky hills with the white flag.
With rusty squeaks, the semicircled smashers pushed in & out, preparing to smash her into nothing but an afterthought.
She stood with her feet planted apart just before them, waited the nanosecond they started to stretch ’way, & then zoomed through.
She had just ’nough time to feel the wind blow gainst her back as they smashed ’hind her.
& that was when she saw the next obstacle: the square smashers…