Man, that kid was flying.

When I was a kid myself, I used to have these little fantasies involving me as a cop or soldier fighting the bad guys.  I’d even entertain my own demise, sometimes as a result of a huge gunfight with a dozen robbers where I would single-handedly bring them to heel with my revolver that never seemed to run out of bullets despite it being a six-shooter and the math of the situation not looking good.  And yes, sometimes bad stuff happens, even in the imagination of a child.  One of those bad guys would get a lucky shot in, it would kill me, and I’d immediately go into visuals of my state funeral with throngs of weeping citizens lining the street on both side, not a dry eye anywhere.  And all of this before my mom called me in for lunch.

So, like any kid, I visualized myself as a hero, and in this particular case a dead one, with all society grinding to a halt at the loss.  Man, I still get teary-eyed just thinking about it.

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