A Crunchy Intermission

My stomach sounded a loud alarm right as I finished inspecting the fence line, demanding immediate fuel for active duty. I marched across the dry clover over to the weathered cedar garden bench. Wedged between two slats was an abandoned brown paper bag with a thick salted pretzel loop peeking over the rim. That was an unauthorized snack, so I took immediate custody. Planting my feet firmly on the rough cedar grain, I wrapped both yellow hands around the crusty loop and pulled with steady muscle. It snapped free with a sharp, hearty crunch. I took a massive bite—salty, crisp, and tough. Officer rations secured and devoured.