Target Practice

I tumbled out of my newspaper tunnel and marched straight over to a padded yellow mailer leaning against the door. A torn edge exposed a patch of clear bubble wrap practically begging for an inspection. I tried stomping a bubble with my crinkly skirt, but my lightweight paper hem didn't even make a dent. Time for the heavy artillery. Tightening my gold twist-tie sash, I tilted my acorn cap helmet forward and drove a determined headbutt into the plastic dome. *POP!* The sharp snap echoed off the porch concrete, bouncing me flat onto my back. One bubble down, forty-seven to go. My morning workout has officially begun.