Hugh J. O'Donnell

I bought a pair of sneakers on the internet that claimed to double my running speed. I was skeptical, but if they didn’t work, at least I’d have an amusing unboxing video for my feed.
They didn’t look like anything special, just a pair of white lace-up sneakers. But the second I put them on I could feel the difference. They worked! I ran outside, ready to conquer the world.
I should’ve gotten something that doubled my reaction time. After three days of running into walls, I threw them into the back of my closet and never wore them again.

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The sinkhole appeared in the Andersons’ cornfield overnight.
The whole town came out to see it. It was as wide across as the farmhouse, with smooth sides and an apparently endless depth. Some boys threw rocks down into it and claimed they never heard them hit the bottom.
Everyone agreed it was a miracle that no one got hurt, and Pa Anderson put up a fance to keep it that way. He differed costs, and his lost crop, by charging tickets for folks to come see it.
But they were caught unawares when the giant golf balls blasted through town.