Strike Out
We had packed up quickly after Branson awoke and told us of his adventures with angels. It had been eight days since we left the small town in Missouri and this trip had been uncomfortable to say the least. Since he woke up, Branson and Jimmy had been bickering like a married couple. They jabbed at each other constantly, almost coming to blows more than once. I had no idea where this testosterone fueled behavior stemmed from but the rest of us had begun to hit the end of our rope with it. "How far are we Mar?" I asked her, shouting over Branson and Jimmy's latest argument about who was a better archer. "About thirty miles." She said. "We're somewhere outside of Harrisburg right now." "Thanks. Scott, could you, uh... get there faster. We don't have traffic to worry abou
- Writer
