Run for your lives, the dam has broken!

The small town was started by a couple of guys.  They began by modestly building several houses from plans in an architectural digest.  Others joined them in constructing the rest of the town.  It soon grew to almost city size.

In hardly any time at all there appeared an airport; a small shopping area, several schools, and lots of farms dotting the little valley.   Railroad tracks began to appear near the summit of a small hill and snake their way down to the station in town.

Through the valley ran a small stream – not really a river, but enough to have the population start work on a dam above town.  Construction began using earthmovers, mobile shovels, and graders.

Soon the dam was beginning to fill the lake which would provide electrical power for the rest of the valley.  It was hailed as a crowning achievement for all involved.  More people were attracted and they began putting down their own homes in the valley.  Roads were created to service these far-flung ranches.

One day, high-flying planes appeared and began to circle the valley.  They would dip low, zoom back and forth, and then return to altitude.  No one really remarked on what type of planes they were, only that they had appeared. It was assumed that these planes were simply on a training mission … until the first bomb was dropped.

It was apparent from the very beginning that their intent was to break the dam. Almost every bomb was aimed at it – trying to find a weak spot.  The residents of the valley were understandably upset and began to fight back with everything they possessed.

The ensuing battle was hard fought: the township residents with huge, green pine cones and the circling pilots lighting the fuses to cherry bombs and dropping them on the dam.  Finally, one lucky hit demolished one side of the dam and it began to leak.  Despite their concentrated efforts, the dam folded outward and started a huge wall of water down the valley.

Oh, the humanity!  Cardboard houses were ripped asunder; plastic animals swept away, and whole model automobiles tumbled down the valley.  Still, the battle raged onwards.  Hit after hit with ground-to-air pine cones finally drove the bomber pilots away but all was in vain – the town was lost.  All that could be done was to gather what we could and retreat to my yard for an after-action critique; but not until we all attacked the ice cream truck for sustenance.

T.O.M.

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