Chapter 1

 

 

Chapter 1:
Bulldog’s left shoe rang, the same shoe he’s had for 20 years.  Flipping off the heel he answered, “Yello?”  The Director of the Agency was on the other end.  “Bulldog” he said, “we have an emergency here in the capitol, I need you back right away.” 
“Roger that” shouted Bulldog abruptly, “I’ll be on my way just as soon as I take care of these bank robbers.” 
With that, he wrestled his left shoe back on and turned his mind once again to the men shooting at him.  Six masked gunmen had him pinned behind a leather chair in the lobby, each one angrily hugging an A-K 47 and pummeling bullets in Bulldog’s direction.  With the stuffing of the chair on its last layer, suddenly Bulldog sprang to action.   He quickly removed three bullets from his gun (waste not want not!) and summersaulted out from behind the chair, enemy fire incessantly following him.  Then, in one motion he stopped rolling, took a sniper-like shooting position and put a bullet straight through a string holding the giant 18th century chandelier directly above the middle of the marble-floored lobby. With a roaring crash it fell to its beautiful ruin, pinning all six bank robbers to the cold ground underneath it. 
“That’s what you get when you rob my bank!” cried Bulldog in victory, “I didn’t work my whole life to have punks like you run off with my money!” A gracious teller ran out from behind a bullet-holed counter and threw her arms around Bulldog.  “Oh thank you, thank you!” she cried with tears streaming down her pale cheeks.
“No problem ma’am,” said Bulldog with a nod of his head, “all in a day’s work.  Now, will you please deposit this check for $21.87 before I head out?!!”   
A seven hour bus ride later, and Bulldog was with the good guys at headquarters attending his emergency briefing.  After a long hour of intense discussion, the Director plopped down in his chair with exhaustion, and said “So, that’s our problem Bulldog. Can you help?”  With a small chuckle Bulldog replied, “Easy! What you want to do is use a little bit of buttermilk – that makes the cornbread fluffier and lighter.” 
The director’s eyes widened, “Yes!  It is so simple! You’ve singlehandedly saved the company’s annual picnic.”  
“Well, that’s what I am here for boss,” said Bulldog with a wink as he propped his feet up on the desk, “now, can I get reimbursed for my bus fair?”

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