Kidde Smoke Detectors

Balseros

(In 5 strokes)

1

... there was, a few meters from the pond, the yellow submarine ...

graffiti

a rafter of a reflector light fell from above. He painted a yellow stripe on the water, just meters from our boat, and then completing a rectangle returned by the coastline. While the spotlight illuminated the cliffs, I could see crabs communities still recovery from the devastation of our dive. Some were splashing in the pools of the shore with a leg missing. Other rearrange their egg sacs in the throat of the rocks and the wheels rose into the sky with prayerful attitude. The fishermen had set their heels, probably pissed off by the continuing decline in patrol cars. The bulkhead line looked, by others, deserted. While the balconies and shutters of buildings on the coast I could present a multitude of eyes spying on the bay.

I glanced at the compass and checked our location, we advanced in a northeasterly direction nautical mile per hour. With luck, we could circumvent the helicopter patrols and sneak in between the two Coast Guard boats that just peeked over the horizon.
Snaige
... when suddenly the boat stopped.

- What, bolo? Why stop?

I pointed it a vague point in front of his raft. At first distinguished not anything (only the ocean feasting himself), but when the wave engrifarse again I could see the cairn that was hustling in the opposite direction to ours.

- What is it, bolo! This is no time for beating about the niceties. Engage the front.

Snaige looked doubtful. And it was understandable. He stood before a landmark without doubt wonderful. Sub or sausage model. Sphincter of those who go out at a stroke. With one breath that lasts. He had half inch in diameter and about two quarters in length. The moonlight illuminated it by a point and seemed to turn as a branch of incense. Certainly the aroma it gave off and walked circulating Snaige pipes, as the bolus was recoil attempts to shore. From the back I pushed forward.

These were about fifteen minutes felt like an eternity. The wave engrifarse and put the Yellow Submarine 30 centimeters closer to our rafts. The bolus instinctively gave ground, stepped back towards the jetty, seemed determined to throw in the towel, give him all the ring his opponent, to let the Cuban boxer stand upon the Olympic podium, wearing the gold medal on his chest, delight even without a good fight. The light from the spotlights hit the water again. I waved to him from behind to follow. I resigned to the sewers of the city, conspired against us, they had their way. Snaige No, this is not the time to surrender. You are a boxer Lithuanian, a white bear from the Russian steppes. Fed with the choicest of Holstein cows, Holstein cows crossed with Zebu bulls Remember? And that you have before you is nothing but a black man of the land, raised with rice with egg and fried sweet platanito. You see now regal, muscular, urban violence and smelling of sulfur, but at heart he is a wimp. Let him hit you with the hook and watch you break your wrist against your chest of iron.

Snaige abruptly opened the door and raised a wave that pushed back the submarine habanero - nicknamed with the public of this city has christened this fierce fighter of coastal waters - but when he closed the door, the marker is emboldened and returned to the attack on the current. New Snaige slam, new back, new wave, new bravado, new developments. The fight started to heat up. The audience - me and the marine claque Snaige had attached to its frame - we encouraged from the sidelines.

Dale, Snaige, you can. That is, bowling, hit to the right, throw it once, throw it in a left-footer on the reefs the coast. It is a wimp can not you see? We are afraid, finish it.

The bolus is encouraged and allowed to recoil. Intensified its doors slamming. Even managed to fold it in half with a blow wave. In the next attack broke in half. But he could not daunted. The submarine looked like a giant Havana moved. And now we attack with its two halves. As the serpent in the fable, that it is no cut off a head spring immediately because two of the veins of the neck. So it was in this case. But the gig was no turning back. He was determined to confront his fate. And now they were more than one attacker I decided to climb the ring and abetting the Russia in the fight. We face the front two torpedoes Havana while the wave rose over the coastal sky. The spotlight was turned on again and dazzled with its light to the winners in the red corner. Cuban boxers were lying on the canvas. The two were embedded lumps on our doors. Molluscs, crabs, mussels and other aquatic habitat of Snaige left the boat carrying him and took to the seas to escape the plague. A raspy voice spoke over a loudspeaker:

- hey, who goes there?

The helicopter dropped several feet and ruffled the water of the bay with their propellers.