Through my time as a sage and teller of tales I have witnessed and questioned many individuals who have personified acts of heroism. Whether it was charging through hails of bullets to rescue a fallen comrade or diving into sub-freezing waters to the aid of a fellow sailor, all of these everyday heroes have a similar response; they never realized they were a hero until later. At the time, they just did what needed to be done.

Before Buddha was barely into the void, George grabbed a piece of water hose flapping from a large spool connected to the truck wash wall. He wrapped the hose twice around his wrist and flew out behind his bald brother.

The rap on the side of Buddha’s head dulled his wits and lowered the volume on the concert of destruction to a quiet hum above the ringing in his ears. The wind picked him off the ground and then he suddenly froze like David Blayne in midair. The flying pieces that pelted his body kept him from feeling the loose extension cord from the freezer had tangled around his waist, endowing him with what seemed like the power to levitate.

The cat 5 tornado that had touched down eleven minutes earlier and was passing next to the truck wash had swept up a tractor disc blade like a matchbox car. The disc, which had become separated from the tractor, contained sixty-five razor-sharp pie-plate-sized blades and around 700 pounds of number one cold roll steel.

“So this is how I die,” thought Buddha as he saw the implement of death escaping the trunk of the twister. Buddha felt the same acceptance of his fate Max had felt when death was his only option. The instrument of his demise, flipping end over end, was so close he could make out the John Deere logo of the running deer as he stood in its path like a kite on a string.

Before he could wince for the impact, a water hose tethered superhero named George Rothering (who had more than once proved he could fly) snatched him out of the air like Superman.  The last of the hose ran out of the spool in the truck wash. Tex and Spider clutched the end of the hose and braced behind the pipes for a life and death game of tug of war. After the initial snatch that almost pulled them and the bars out into the storm, they began to reel in the other half of their gang. Finally, when their arms burned like they were filled with hot coffee, they pulled in Buddha and George. The two boys collided with the ground in a thud as the disc flew right over their heads. Bruised and battered, but for the most part, the boys were not the worse for wear. They all climbed behind the pipes just in time for a wall of mud to fill the truck wash and the roof lifted off and was swept out into the heavens.