•January 30, 2019•

By Harry Reynolds

The sirens wailed, and the girls screamed. They understood this nuclear bomb thing. The grade schools boys were dismissive. Density plagues the sex. Chaos reigned for a few minutes.
When the insanity of panic faded somewhat, we were herded into the Washington School basement. Dank, gray pipes decorated the ceiling. It served both as the school lunch room, and as our refuge.
Washington School was not unique; its name adorns thousands of schools across the nation. Ours was a crumbling brick affair, built somewhere west of 1880.
Revelation of the school’s location might result in masses of canceled subscriptions to this fine newspaper; and the possible exile of the managing editor. In defense of the editor, no finer “fake news” journalist ever lived.     Login or Subscribe to read the rest of this story.