[ WP ] Most kids in preschool play with toys and play tag , but not Jimmy . Jimmy was different . He was busy saving the day .

It was a day like any other for Mrs. Riker's preschool class. Juice boxes flowed freely, kids laughed, and every once in awhile someone deserved a time out. The children themselves were painstakingly normal. Little Suzie wore pigtails and was horrified of cooties. Johnny was a real dick, as he was the resident `` Indian burn'' artist. The students of Mrs. Riker's preschool class were all what you would expect a child to be: innocent, curious, and immature. 
 
 Then there was Jimmy. 
 
 Jimmy was unlike the other students. Jimmy did n't talk much, and generally did n't play with the other children. He could often be found gazing out the windows of Mrs. Riker's classroom or playing with blocks. He did n't socialize, and seemed totally apathetic compared to his classmates. Some parents worried that he might suffer from some sort of disability. Jimmy's only disability, however, was the weight of responsibility he carried from day to day. 
 
 The bell rang. 
 
 The children all ran out the door for recess and Mrs. Riker followed close behind. Recess was the only time Jimmy could be seen eliciting any kind of emotion. Jimmy hurriedly pushed past the other children. His light up shoes could be seen illuminating with every step as Jimmy rounded a corner onto the playground. Almost out of breath, Jimmy walked behind a small wall that surrounded one of the jungle gyms. Jimmy crouched down and sunk his hands into the sand, pulling out a small black box. He carefully looked around to ensure that no one could see him. He saw the children sliding down the slides and Mrs. Riker monitoring the kids in line at the water fountain. 
 
 `` What a simple existence,'' Jimmy thought to himself, `` one day when my work is done, maybe, just maybe, I'll know what it's like to live such an existence.'' 
 
 Sighing deeply, Jimmy opened the box to reveal a display of buttons. He hurriedly pressed the buttons in sequence and the ground began to shift. A small hole opened in the ground and he climbed into it, pulling a watch out of his pocket. 
 
 `` Forty-five minutes,'' he whispered to himself. 
 
 The hole gave way to a staircase. He rushed down the stairs and into a room. He flipped on a light switch which immediately projected a holographic image of the world over a long table. Jimmy sat at the end of the table and buried his head in his hands. 
 
 `` Alright,'' he said aloud, `` get me the President.'' 
 
 Holograms appeared in seats all around the table, including one of President Barack Obama. The President, looking relieved, greeted Jimmy, `` Mr. Jimmy, thank you very much for joining us. We were worried you were compromised!'' 
 
 `` No, Barack, I'm fine. That woman pushes recess back further and further each day, I swear. Her lessons are so pedantic and they become unbearable when she stretches them out to such lengths,'' Jimmy declared. 
 
 `` I'd love to talk to you about the flaws of the American education system, but we have a situation,'' Obama remarked as one of his generals handed him a manilla folder, `` extremists in Bitar have overrun one of our nuclear missile silos there and are currently working to override the launch codes. They want to fire the missiles on the United States. We're attempting to send a Seal team in but their ETA is currently three hours. We may not have enough time.'' 
 
 Jimmy sighed deeply, pulling a pack of cigarettes from a drawer of the table. He held one in his mouth and lit it, inhaling deeply. `` You know how long its been since I had one of these, Barry? I do n't smoke them often,'' Jimmy responded, stifling a laugh, `` the wife says they're not good for you. She says they take ten years off your life. But then again, she's just a kindergartener, so what does she know?'' 
 
 The eyes of the holograms followed Jimmy as he stood up and began pacing the room. Every few seconds he'd inhale a hit of his cigarette and rub his forehead. Jimmy looked down at his watch, `` Thirty-six more minutes. Son of a bitch.'' 
 
 `` Can you help us, Jimmy?'' Obama said anxiously as he fidgeted with his papers, `` this a very real nuclear threat, and we do n't have a lot of time!'' 
 
 `` God damn it!'' Jimmy yelled, slamming his fist down on the table, `` I was told you that building a nuclear missile silo in Bitar was a risk! It's an historically unstable region, and I knew that if the wrong people found out about its existence that this would happen.'' 
 
 Nobody ever listened to Jimmy. He had tried to warn them on numerous occasions about the dangers of flirting with military presence in the middle east. He cautioned them that it may lead to never ending war. Deep down, Jimmy knew that they knew that. It's what they wanted. He questioned if Obama did n't just roll out the red carpet and let the insurgents walk right into the missile silo. After all, would n't the destruction of a major metropolitan American city be grounds to let slip the dogs of war? He had no time to pontificate on this issue. The very real situation of lives being in danger was in front of him now. 
 
 Jimmy sighed, pulling out his laptop, `` There's no easy way out of this, Barry.'' Jimmy opened the laptop and pulled up a program named `` BioDox.'' The clacking of keys began as Jimmy explained, `` I'm attempting to disable the entire silo. If they beat me to the punch and launch the missile, then I'll have to hack the tracking mechanism on the warhead and attempt to detonate it. At any rate, you should contact NORAD and put them on high alert. If I fail, then the-'' 
 
 `` THEY'VE LAUNCHED THE MISSILE!'' screamed one of the generals, as he hopped out of his seat, pointing in front of himself. The room grew silent as Obama made an emergency call to NORAD. 
 
 Jimmy typed furiously, having to start over from scratch. The missile would take mere minutes to meet its destination. He went through window after window, line of code after line of code. 
 
 `` NORAD is attempting to intercept the missile,'' Obama's hologram said, standing at the foot of his table, `` based on the missile's trajectory... it's headed for your location, Jimmy.'' 
 
 Jimmy looked up from his computer. His jaw dropped for a split second, and he instantly went back to work. He knew those dipshits at NORAD could n't hit a missile out of the sky. They could n't even hit the center of the toilet bowl when they took a piss. Jimmy knew this was his burden to bear, only this time the stakes were higher than they had ever been before. This was do or die, win or go home. 
 
 `` NORAD was unable to destroy the missile, Jimmy. You're all we have left. God speed, Jimmy,'' Obama whispered somberly. 
 
 Jimmy's life seemed to flash before his eyes as he typed away at his laptop. Memories of reading the great novels of the 21st century, learning to play the piano with his father, and eventually being introduced to Donald Rumsfeld, who was responsible for his position and accommodations. This would n't be the end though. Jimmy refused to let himself and his classmates die like this, especially since Jimmy knew it would be his fault. Clearly the insurgents knew something. Who tipped them off? Was his cover not efficient enough? Was this an inside job? It did n't matter, he had to focus. Every second grew more furious until finally he hacked the system. 
 
 `` Unit_Override_382758_SelfDestruct_EagleNest1011'' 
 
 `` There! I've done it!'' Jimmy exclaimed, slamming his laptop shut, `` confirm?'' 
 
 A momentary tension washed over the room. Either the missile had detonated in the air or Jimmy was about to die a painful death. Jimmy sat smoking what he worried would be his final cigarette. The holographic generals all looked down at their laps worriedly. Finally, a smile came over the face of Barack Obama as he hung up the phone and declared, `` Detonation confirmed, Jimmy.'' 
 
 The room erupted in applause and shouts of joy as Jimmy checked his watch. `` Three minutes left to spare,'' he said to himself with a chuckle. 
 
 `` Of course, there will be no evidence that this occurred. We'll play it off as a drone being destroyed. We'll also send out fighters to cure the air as much as possible so the radiation effects the population as little as possible,'' Obama said, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper, `` also, we're going to have you relocated. Your identity was clearly compromised. We'll be in touch.'' 
 
 The holographic images vanished, and Jimmy left the room. He hurried upstairs and carefully slid the door open, making sure no one noticed him. Jimmy dusted himself off and replaced the black box. Jimmy ran from behind the wall and straight into Mrs. Riker. 
 
 `` I was just looking for you, young man! Do you have any idea what time it is? Why are you hiding from me?'' Mrs. Riker said. 
 
 Jimmy just looked up at her with a blank expression and slowly shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 `` And why do you smell like cigarettes!? What is going on here? I'm going to be talking to your parents after school today, and you can spend the rest of the day in time out!'' Mrs. Riker exclaimed, dragging Jimmy by the arm back to class. 
 
 As Mrs. Riker dragged him back to class, Jimmy noticed off in the distance a young boy coming out of a manhole. This manhole was located in the playground. Jimmy knew of it because he had often found it to be an odd location for a manhole, considering there were no sewer lines that ran under the school. The boy emerged fully: it was Johnny, the master of the `` Indian burn.'' Johnny noticed Jimmy, and they locked eyes. Johnny smiled slyly and pulled a cigarette from his back pocket. Jimmy wanted to yell at the top of his lungs and fight Mrs. Riker's grip, but he knew it would only bring more attention to himself. Johnny stood confidently and pointed his fingers in the shape of a gun at Jimmy, pretending to shoot him multiple times. 
 
 
 

