****
At the end of the cul-de-sac front of the Simple property Sargent Abe Schneider, US Army, sat atop his A-1 Abrams tank, staring through binoculars at the old Simple House. Nothing was visibly stirring: no ugly witches, no gigantic dragons, no tiny elves, no hairy giants, and no normal people. No targets he had been briefed on could be seen. Also there was no observable damage from the earlier military attack they had led. Inside the Sample yard he could see only birds, bees, flowers and trees that went on living peacefully as though they had not been attacked by enough firepower to destroy a large town. His own tank had fired a dozen high explosive and armor piercing shells directly at the house with absolutely no effect! This mission was one big useless fuck-up, as far as Schneider could tell.
Colonel John Cree, leader of the mechanized forces arrayed in the cul-de-sac in support of Operation Dragon Mop-Up, sat next to him using his radio again, arguing with his superiors. "Negative," said the Colonel. "We've tried that a half-dozen times with no results except damaged equipment. We haven't gotten a single inch inside the perimeter, despite tank fire, artillery and mortar shells, machineguns, air-to-ground missiles and bombs, flame-throwers, lasers, acid, ultrasound, and everything else that we've thrown against the Simple property.
"We can't even get past or damage the pathetic little wooden front gate. Once in a while a teenage boy comes out to front gate, gives us the finger, laughs at us, and tells us to go the hell away. That's the only sign we have had that anyone is even in there. The kid fits the description of the neighbor boy named Johnny. We've tried to talk with him but he only laughs at us, the loud-mouthed little brat!"
Pause.
"No sir, we've stopped our attacks for now. In my opinion it's a waste of resources and poses dangers to our troops. Some of our live rounds even get diverted and thrown back at us."
Pause.
"Yes sir." said Colonel Cree, before at last hanging up and shaking his head. "New orders from the top," he told Sargent. "We are to stop our attack immediately and not enter the Simple property. In other words, we are to do nothing but watch."
"But that's exactly what we've been doing for the last half hour!" noted Sargent Schneider.
"And we need to continue doing it," said Cree. "Some new guy named Dr. Cross is now in charge of all operations and he has given us new orders to not attack."
"Easy-peasy," said the Sargent, with a shrug. He hadn't been too keen on attacking an old civilian house at the end of a suburban Chicago cul-de-sac anyway. He had some time ago dismissed the initial rumor that the property housed a terrorist cell. This place was weird and special though, that's for damn sure!
At that moment a tiny little costumed man appeared between the tank and the front gate to the Simple place. The translucent image of an enormous white dragon stood over the elf for less than a second, then disappeared with a clap of thunder. The little man turned and looked at the Army men, drew a tiny glowing sword and waved it at them menacingly while shouting at them in a very foreign tongue, and then completely disappeared.
"Elf sighting," said the Sargent. "Dude was about the size of a Barbie doll. In my report I'm not going to even mention the ghostly dragon image."
"Agreed!" said the Colonel. "Make the report."
"This mission is fucked up," added the Sargent.
"Damn right," agreed Colonel Cree. "I wish I knew what the fuck is going on. But leave those sorts of remarks out of the report. There's no telling what the hell we'll be told to do next or who'll be doing the telling."
White Dragon's Chosen Page 53