Third time.

Third time.

One more time.

Harold wrung his hands as a smile crossed his face. His eyes lit up, stars dancing around in them as he looked at the white building behind the black iron fence. The path was clear and nothing would stop him this time. Not like the last two attempts. This time he was going all the way.


Harold sprang into action, launching himself at the fence. Filled with excitement, he bounded over the fence with little difficulty and hit the immaculately manicured green grass on the other side.


On the last two tries he’d been stopped on the lawn, brought down and tackled to the ground by the bad men. But not this time. This time, he was going all the way—all the way to the big white house where the important man lived.

His legs pumped, propelling him across the open lawn like a gazelle. He hadn’t been this excited in a long time. All the lawyers and all the judges scolding him like a child, calling him crazy, saying mean things about him. This time he would prove them all wrong.

And he did.

Harold sprinted across the lawn like an Olympic athlete. He had even surprised himself with his speed, struggling to slow down before he plowed right into the side of the White House. His hand wrapped around the brass door knob. He twisted and the door opened.


Harold stepped inside. This was the farthest he had ever gone. Now he just had to go and find the important man. Harold had big ideas about economics and social issues to share with him. This was about the future of America! Looking around, he found himself inside an empty room filled with chairs. It looked like maybe it was set up for press conferences, with a big podium standing on a stage at the end of the room.

But where was he?

Harold walked out into the hall. Pictures and paintings hung on the white walls. Fresh flowers leaned out of a glass vase that sat on an oak table.

Gray Matter Splatter Preview: America Under Attack

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Harold went down the hall, opening doors, finding little of interest until he stepped into what looked like a living room. Overstuffed leather chairs sat around a table. More paintings hung on the walls. This was where the important man did important things.

A staircase!

Harold smiled. The important man must be upstairs. He walked toward the stairs, his hand caressing the wooden railing as his shoe landed on the first step. That was when the doors burst open and the bad men in black suits rushed him.

Not again!

Harold screamed as the bad men slammed him to the floor.