This paragraph is as boring as watching paint dry

After Mrs. Mitty came out of the drugstore, they climbed into their automobile. Walter fastened his seat belt, watched his wife turn on the windscreen wipers and carefully watched her pull away from the curb. The car drove down the road as slowly as a snail. Walter Mitty sighed in the passenger seat as his wife babbled on like a baboon. He rolled his head off to one side it felt heavy like a rock, the day was miserable it was raining cats and dogs.
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Suddenly there was a roar of an engine loud like a lion. Walter felt himself lift off the ground he was flying like a bird. His plane kicked like a horse but Walter grasped the reigns firmly. His squad flew precise like an arrow preparing to engage German fighters. The wind howled like wolves just outside Walters cabin, he knew this was suicide but he flew on. Suddenly he made out in the distance a German fighter. His heart started to pound like a drum. None of Walters training prepared him for a moment such as this. Gun fire lit up the stillness of the night like fireworks on the fourth of July. His men were dropping left and right like flies, leaving only Walter trembling in his seat. Only two fighters were left on each respected side, a battle to the end. Walter meandered swiftly and cunningly like a fox. Locking in the German fighter in his cross hairs. He flipped a few switches and engaged the enemy. A loud bang echoed through the air like booming thunder but not coming from where one might of thought.

Horrors Of The Holocaust

On November 7th 1938, Jewish minor Herschel Grünspan assasinated a Nazi German diplomat Ernst Vom Rath. The Nazis used this act to scale a full fledged attack against the Jewish peoples of Germany. That cold night the Nazis vandalized many Jewish shops and completely demolished almost every synagogue in sight. This diabolical night is referred to today as the "Night of Broken Glass". But unfortunately this was in no way comparable to the horrors to come. As swift as dawn breaks over thirty thousand Jews have all ready been sent to their ultimate demise in Nazi concentration camps. Death becomes more common then starry nights, and this is just the beginning.

You find yourself straying from an early morning dream, birds outside chirp happily and you become alert and awake. If only you'd known of the horrors that lingered just mere minutes away, of the pain and suffering to come; if only you knew. Standing from your long slumber you stretch and walk to the window to greet such a glorious day. Softly you place your hands upon the window sill, warm to the touch from the suns glow. The big tree in the front yard is in full bloom and sways peacefully.

 A shout interrupts your mornings peace. Sheela the Jewish neighbor is at the curb crying, a German soldier stands before her clutching a mauser pistol. Your heart stops in complete shock and horror, Sheela's children run from the house in tears. They run as fast as their little feet can possibly carry them, but this was to no avail. The German shouted and pulled the trigger. Your heart is wrenched from your chest, the world spins un controllably, anger consumes you, blinds you and devours you. You shout at the bastard German from your window, he returns your greeting with two quick shots from his pistol. They fly past your face in an instant and destroy the lamp that once lie resting atop your night stand.

Instantly you drop to the floor and begin crawling towards your closet. In the back of your mind you know the German will be kicking down the door at any moment. You think of your kids downstairs so helpless, their eyes so wide and filled with horror. But not on this day will they parish you swear this to the moon and stars. Quickly you stand and slam the closet doors open, feverishly you throw clothes aside to find what you need most in life. There it shines brightly, you feast your eyes upon it hungrily. You clutch its cool barrel tight and pop two slugs into its chamber. Everything freezes its way too quiet.

The door bursts from downstairs and you run to the stairs. You hear the shouts of your children, it drives a needle through your soul. The bastard raises and points his gun at your oldest son. He shouts a few words, which are interrupted with your own, "Hell yearns for you." Pulling your trigger the shotgun kicks back at you like a bull, bullets spray and the German is sent flying into the wall. He lie motionless, dead. You know he deserved a worse fait but at least it was done by your own hand. You clutch your three children tightly, soft crying fills the blood stained walls of the house. You know this wont be the last time a German enters the house and next time it wont just be one.