Walter Mitty dashed immediately without warning, somehow catching the guards off guard. Jumping, rolling, cartwheeling around a spray bullets, Mr. Mitty soon found himself in front of a group of men without ammunition, with fear and confusion in their eyes.
… Mrs. Mitty walked around the corner to see Walter Mitty prancing around a cigar still lit on the ground, puffing smoke.
“My Heavens,” said Mrs. Mitty, “what were you smoking?”
Walter Mitty snapped his head toward her direction, instantly ceasing whatever activity he was performing prior.
“Nothing my dear, shall we return home?” Walter suggested with an embarrassed tone.
“We must,” insisted Mrs. Mitty in distraught, “you are acting like an insolent child, it’s top priority that we check what’s wrong with you.”
Mrs. Mitty and Mr. Mitty rushed through the rain and the loud claps of thunder to the parking lot, doing their best to avoid getting drenched. Mrs. Mitty did her best to dry her dress before entering the drivers’ seat, as she had little confidence with Walter at this point. Walter Mitty followed suit in the passenger seat. They drove onto the road, with water flowing down the street like a river. As they continued to drive, flashes of light, soon accompanied with sudden claps of thunder got louder and louder. Another flash, soon followed with another loud crash.
… Another flash stretched over the sky, bright as day, only for a moment, then soon followed with another crash of thunder.
“We Only have this one chance!” yelled Rutger Baltasar, the main pilot of the Z-132 German air bombing unit. “If we do not clear the American front line, our fellow soldiers are kaput!”
“Yes sir!” chanted the rest of the crew.
Walter Mitzi took to lining up the sights to the restless soldiers down below, battling it out with bullets whizzing by each other by a hair. Walter successfully lined up the shot.
“Permission to fire?” shouted Walter Mitzi, battling to be heard over the humming engines
“Permission granted!” approved Rutger.
The giant metal hatch swung open revealing a cluster of bombs set for detonation below. One by one, each one fell and hit the ground. A flash of light arose from the ground, soon accompanied with sudden claps of thunder, then again.
…Mrs. Mitty turned to see Mr. Mitty tossing around in his chair, acting like he was pressing buttons and dials, murmuring something now again in a horrendous German accent, rolling the window up and down.
“Walter!” barked Mrs. Mitty, “I’m starting to have doubts that you’re even sane.”
Walter again paused what ever he was doing and faced Mrs. Mitty.
“Don’t worry dear,” reassured Mr. Mitty, “If I wasn’t sane, I would act like a fool.”
As his excuse left his lips, he can see the insinuating look in her eyes. They sped off into the night until they reached home.