Suburban Blitzkrieg

First we heard the sound. I'll never forget it. It was a kind of a tinkling music. "Pop Goes the Weasel." By then it was too late to take cover. They were already upon us.

Kids were screaming and running, running and screaming. I heard one girl calling out for her mother, who was nowhere to be found. There had been a baseball game going on in the park. It disintegrated immediately. The dugouts emptied. Runners fled from the bases. It was pandemonium.

Then, almost as suddenly as it had...

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