By Anisa A. Claire
Image via Pixabay.
“Are you seeing those clouds, Harry? Over and out.”
“You don’t need to say over and out. I’m sitting right beside you, stupid,” Harry says, turning to face Pete. His neck is a little stiff.
“That’s a big ten four. This is the end of my transmission.”
“Pete, for the love of all things good and natural, stop using that ridiculous radio language. Keep your eyes on the horizon.”
“Right. Eyes on the horizon. Gotcha. That’s a—”
“Shut. Up.” Extending his arm straight out, Harry clicks a button on the control panel. He’s grown tired of Pete’s childish behaviour and can’t wait to land the plane and go to the corner store for a pop… far, far away from his friend.
(Back on the Ground)
“Who are you talking to, weirdo?”
“Talking to? Hah,” I scoff. “Nobody. What are you looking at,” I raise one eyebrow for dramatic affect and then take a quick step toward her and watch as she shuffles back and skitters off. Pfft. People. So nosey. Can’t a guy watch a plane without being hassled around here?
Focusing back on the flight in front of him, Harry sees that the duo is headed straight for a giant tree. “Turn! Turn now!” He screams. “Oh, my gosh. Turn NOW!” He shouts again.
The plane explodes as it smashes into the solidity of the trunk and sprinkles down to the ground in a million little pieces.
Harry shoots from the top of the plane, unharmed and safely glides down to the ground below him. “Pete?! PETE! Where are you,” He screams, touching his feet to the ground, desperately trying to free himself from the confines of his parachute. “Pete, oh my gosh, Pete,” he breaks down, sobbing on the tiny island below the tree.
“What is that horrendous noise?” Harry slams his hands onto the ground below him. “Pete… P-please answer me, I can’t be the sole survivor. I won’t be able to live with myself. Stranded on this island? Pete! Answer me, buddy.”
“That’s a big ten-two, ten-seven-b,” Pete’s raspy voice whispered from a pile of rubble.
“P-Pete? Is that you? Talk louder! I’m coming for you. I knew I wasn’t alone,” Harry, legs stiff and fully extended, begins to drag himself over to Harry.
(Back in Reality)
Sad that I crashed my remote control airplane, I pick up the two surviving Lego men and decide to call it a day. No sense pushing my luck.
“Time to go, Pete and Harry. I’m surprised you both survived that plane crash. It was intense. I’m glad I strapped that bubble gum wrapper to you guys. Phew. You’d have been toast otherwise. Oh, and good thing you landed on an island. Can you imagine if you went down in the water?” I huffed, so excited about the day’s happenings. “Mom is going to be. So. Freaking. Mad,” I say. “You guys ruined my plane, but that’s okay, I forgive you.”
The sun is setting, so I know I’ve been playing for a long time. ’Oh, and what’d you guys think of my ambulance impressions?” I ask, pulling the Lego men up to my face so I can look at them. ”Was the ‘weeeeeeoooooweeeeoooooweeeeoooooo’ believable or what?” I was stoked with my impression.
Grabbing my Pokemon backpack, I slip my toys inside and head for home. One kid can only handle so much drama in an afternoon at the park, after all.
Anisa A. Claire manages property by day and is an eclectic author by night. She is also the creator and co-owner of Writer’s Carnival, a successful online community for writers. She has multiple publications in e-zines such as Long Story Short, 69 Flavors of Paranoia, The Short Humour Site, and Blood Magazine. She’s placed in, and won various contests, and completed in last year’s 3-Day Novel competition.