Bulldog Chronicles

  Chapter 4: Bulldog interrupted brusquely, “Arrr…that be all?! Thought you’d have more!”   “Silence!” shrieked the Captain pompously. He continued, “Therefore, by the power of the Queen of England, I sentence you to walk the plank.”   The Captain rolled up the scroll and placed it back in his vest quipping, “Any last words before I carry out the sentence?”     “Yeah,” growled Bad Eye, “Do you need a special booster seat to reach the helm of the ship, Little Guy?” The whole crew snickered at this remark. The Captain whipped his head around to silence his subordinates, then turned back to Bulldog and declared, “We shall see how funny you are when the sharks have you for dinner.”   With that, the Captain slowly opened his overcoat to reveal a shiny pistol. Maintaining uninterrupted eye contact with Bad Eye, he leisurely removed the gun from his waistband, pointed it at Bulldog and said evenly, “Walk.”     Bulldog sco

  Chapter 3: Dusk was approaching, and now 30 clicks behind enemy lines, Bulldog could see the heat of his breath in the last few minutes of daylight in a cold, quiet forest.   This was dangerous place for anyone, but especially for him.   After all, he was on the Third Reich’s most wanted list; a fact he considered as a badge of honor.   A few hundred yards away, was a Nazi chateau – an impregnable fortress of intel, artillery and treasure, guarded with more men than Bulldog could count. With only his 9 MM, a pocket knife and his trusty camera, Bulldog took a deep breath and preceded – step by step, he was closing in on one of the most dangerous targets the world had ever known.   He must remain undetected. One wrong move could spell disaster.   Slithering closer on his belly, Bulldog remembered his simple promise to the President: he would return with this intel, or die trying.   And dying was not on Bulldog’s agenda to

  Chapter 2: In a moment of quiet determination, Bulldog raised his head slowly to the bright sunny sky, sweat and blood trickling down his stoic grimace. He wasn’t too worried about the broken ribs, or the dislocated shoulder, he could deal with that.   Mostly, he was upset about the tear in his favorite shirt.   It was a good shirt, a dependable fashion staple – and even after seventeen years of use, he still had plans for it… As Bulldog glared across the stadium, he gritted his teeth and watched the massive, angry bull saunter forward and prepare to charge once more.   Bulldog smirked and thought, “OK, Bull, it’s just you and me”.   Then, like a freight train at top speed, the beast was charging. Bulldog waited. With each powerful exhale he breathed, the giant animal doubled in size. The beast was almost upon him, and Bulldog heard the crowd go quiet in anticipation. At the last possible moment, when death s