Picture Story

It was a beautiful landscape- a river, traveling idly through two canyon walls, rocks littering its sides. Lizards sunned themselves on the boulders, and black birds circled above. All of a sudden, a gunshot disrupted this peaceful scene. The lizards scrambled underneath the rocks, and the birds quickly flew in all directions.
A marine, tall and rugged with his uniform soaked in sweat sprinted around the bend of the canyon. A group of men, wearing turbans and toting Uzis could be seen in hot pursuit. The marine looked behind him and loudly cursed, accelerating his pace even more.
Pumping his arms wildly, Sergeant Jack Lyons sprinted away from the oncoming tribal forces. He leaped over the slippery boulders with the agility of a puma, and kept running. All of a sudden, a voice from above the camera bellowed, "CUT!!"
The marine stopped running, the group of men threw down their guns in frustration. "What is it now, Steven?" yelled 'Lyons', in a thick Irish brogue.
Steven could now be seen descending the steps to get to the makeshift 'canyon' set, and madly gesticulating to a camera man, perched high above the set. He turned to the 'Marine'.
"How many times do I have to tell you, Evan, that in this scene, Jack Lyons has to have an exaggerated LIMP from scene three? The battle between the second platoon and the rebels?"
The marine, now known as Evan, shrugged. "Sorry. Forgot."
"Well do it again, and this time I want to see you struggling. You don't just run like that after you've 'broken your toe'". Okay, positions."
Five minutes later, Sergeant Lyons was sprinting again, this time with an awkward gait.