The little soldier was a good soldier, that meant, he always complied with his duties. But being a good soldier was not enough for him, he wanted to become the best. So one day the little soldier happened to have a bomb in his hand – some spewers say he stole it – and he thought to use it to show the others he was the best.

The little soldier found a nice square out of the war field – poor, foolish, little soldier – full of babies, women, elderly, men, basically every one of the enemies. He jumped on a high tree, dropped the bomb, then run away quickly, hiding under the shadow of ­an emergency staircase.

He waited there, his heart rolling in his chest like a drum, until the bomb’s smoke reached his nostrils, making faint the good, little soldier.

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