Stampede

How did we wind up like this, Bernie asked Cecil.
Keep moving!
They sped up. I'm tired and thirsty, one of them said. Harriet angled over, coughing on dust. I have a bad feeling about this, she gasped.
Where are we going, George bellowed. Leaders pushed them harder. Hour after hour. Finally they took a break. We need a plan, Bernie thought. What if we charge the horses and scare them off? Then he realized the men had guns and it might be suicide.
A word popped into his head--stampede. He passed the word on to the others, who had no idea what it meant. Confusion reigned. They finally understood the object was to rumble off in all directions at once.
Unfortunately, Ned was in the front and he was the clumsiest of all. He tripped over his own hooves and fell. The others fell over him into a pile. Cowboys cursed them and let the whips fly. Bernie and Cecil were on the bottom, cursing their lives.
Sally, always the optimist, suggested the real purpose of this cattle drive was to get them in shape for the cattle Olympics.
We need another plan, Bernie moaned.

The Stampede

Augie tried to push his way through he scrum of people outside the coffee shop. Hundreds clamored to get in. Police barked orders to back away on a megaphone. Shouts of dismay filled the air.

What is going on, Wally asked those around him.
Joe Del Priore is doing a rare reading from his latest book of stories, someone answered.


Who is he? Wally asked.
Where have you been the past five years, a man yelled. Nine collections of stories, with a tenth on the way. The man speaks to my soul. His work brings me to tears.
Police were ready to turn on the high powered hoses. Suddenly the proprietor came out and announced the writer would not be reading. He had suffered a panic attack and locked himself in the bathroom.
Genius is a lonely existence.