He rolled, bursting from the burning house

He rolled, bursting from the burning house at an unadvisable speed. A unfortunately placed stone connected with his foot and he flew forward skidding across the dirt with a crunch.

He hurried to a standing position, whipping his gun out from a shoulder holster and firing blindly back into the flames. His pursuers couldn't be far behind him, and he needed..

to buy as much time as he could. He didn't know what the pursuers wanted with him, but he highly doubted it was for a tea party. His stamina wasn't what it used to be though, and

no matter how hard he pushed himself, he couldn't exceed 5mph, so he was quickly reached by a man riding a bicycle. The man tackled him and

proceeded to make verbal jabs at how small of a thread count his mother's bed must have. Enraged, our hero takes a splinter of concrete on the road and pops the bike tires.

His harasser's glee turned to squawking dismay as the bike's front wheel became a fixed fulcrum in a machine built to help mouthy cyclists headbutt planet Earth. This self-suplex

rendered the bike rider to become a mobile organ donor. He looked at the gnarled mess and thought, "Karma." The EMT resuscitated the bicycle. It would wheel again. He strolled upon

thin ice because he kept trying to resuscitate inanimate things. The bike. The EMT once tried to resuscitate a label maker. His boss didn't want to fire him right away because

that abomination of a reanimated label-maker gave him some good stock tips which helped him and his brood survive the collapse. The hands and the heart of the EMT brought life to