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  1. #1
    martin shaw

    Gliders............... re-jiggered


    ĎThat was a bomb, Sir, but in case you didnít know, itís blown a great big gaping wound in your head. Hello! Hello, hello. HA! Ha, ha. Ooh look... I can see a football pitch and a gaggle of geese that are honking at me. Honk-honk! Honk-honk! Anyway... ah yes, let me see. I can see another massive hole inside there, where wood-boring insects are trying to escape the violent lashing of one of your severed neurons. Gosh, itís like a broken air hose on a generator.

    Oops a daisy, there goes an exoskeleton shell. Oh no, now the hose is whipping at the insectís bare buttocks. Will you listen to it bray, sir? Err ... are you still here, sir? Come on now, wakey-wakey! We canít miss the big buttock lash. You didnít with mine, you naughty little, thing.

    Right! Okay, thatís better. Anyway, as I was saying, Sir, thereís a show on inside your head tonight; I saw it advertised on the side of the bomb on the way in. Itís the first air show done at night for gliders. We can all pretend to watch them as they, well, just glide, I suppose, and then listen out for the tips of the wings whooshing past at head height. Weíll have to duck, or theyíll cut us smiles before crashing like flies hitting a windscreen into the back of your eyes.

    Donít worry though, Sir! Weíve all had crashing gliders in our heads at some time or other. They are what have created our coronal suture. Yeah! Smashing gliders inside our heads; itís the bane of mankind.

    Where are you going? Keep those eyes open, now. Come on, sir, stay with me- stay with me. Youíre making hard work of this, arenít you?

    Ahh, thatís better...

    You have never liked me, have you, sir? Youíve always seen me as someone continually brushing his teeth and held me in contempt for spitting out in front of you. I must admit, I know that it looks complacent when I empty my mouth, and taking the life essence that is water, letting it drain down a plughole. Itís just that I have done it since childhood, but never given it a second thought. Like you, Sir; just like you... Weíve all been your water, really, Sir... havenít we?

    Well, I donít think there are any medics going to make it up here. Look at everyone exploding like popcorn in that minefield, and thereís not much hope for you, with the size of that wound. Itís all go, today, isnít it, Sir?
    Can I have one of those cigars you keep for a special occasions? Thanks... Iíll blow some smoke in for you. Umm, ooh yes, this is jolly nice, isnít it, sir. I shall stay right here with you until you pass on: not like we did to, Clancy. Do you remember Clancy, Sir?
    ĎIf heís alive now, heíll be alive in the morning,í you shouted.

    Well, morning came, and heíd kicked the bucket. Heíd written a note to his wife. Do you know what it said, Sir? I have it here. Letís see if we can strike a compassionate chord, shall we? Here we go.

    Jena; you are my darling wife, and the one that I have always loved. As I look up at the night sky, at this very moment, I imagine you doing the same. I fear I am leaving you now, but please donít cry, I know that you are. If we could ever have changed things, we might not have met. So you see: I die the happiest man in the world.
    I love you, Jena. Everything that I do has always been because I love you

    Ah thatís sweet, isnít it, Sir? Iíll just tuck that back in my top pocket, eh? Nice and snug.

    I feel a bit despondent about the whole war thing now, Sir; do you? You see, since the twin towers have collapsed, Iíve had to join the army to supplement my wages, because I canít sell my Porsche 911. A gypsy once told me, ĎIíll own a car that will bring me bad luck,í but when I looked inside, and before I bought the only vehicle in my life, so far, there was never room for anything at all. Stupid gypsy and her lucky heather, she should have been born a bee. Hey! When are bees born? Anyway, as I was saying, I use the army to supplement my wages, because I already work for the government. Iím not a spy, it just makes things easier for my tax return, thatís all. Come to think of it, we all work for the government, and the only thing that isnít taxed is masturbation; itís a good job too, Iíd be skint otherwise. No, I just work in the houses of parliamentís main cafeteria, and dish out re-heated chips to make the politicians feel in touch with society.

    Hey! Now thereís a thought. You could use a Porsche 911 to get away from a devastation scene pretty quickly, couldnít you? Iím pretty sure you could. Thatís good advertising, and I donít think itís illegal, is it? But probably in bad taste, maybe? Just like the blokes shooting sparrows in Auschwitz, to make it a tourist attraction.

    Anyway, Sir, the end is nigh for you, old chap. Instead of dying in hand-to-hand combat, like you have always predicted... youíll die in the flooded fields of blood red poppies that we were sent here to protect. Youíve been knocked out of your orbit by a stray bomb from a bi-plane. Cuh ... tut! They bomb their own kind, these bi-planes, donít they, Sir? Anything to be different, eh?

    Youíre going now, arenít you, Sir. You remind me of a song. Hold on, Iíve got it! Letís both have a jig. Up you get, come on. Blimey! Youíre heavier than you look. Well at least hold your head up... Ready, a-one-two-three, one-two three.

    The Campptown races, la la la
    Doo-dah! doo-dah!
    Hm hm hm hm, hm hm hmm
    Oh, dee dooh-dah day.
    Goiní to run all night,
    Goiní to run all day.
    I bet my money on a bob-tailed nag,
    Somebody bet on the grey.

    Ahh... that was good.

    Well, got to go myself now, Sir; be lucky. It is really me, donít you know? Donít you know?

  2. #2
    Amy Lou

    Re: Gliders............... re-jiggered

    I have to comment on this. I had so many feelings while reading it. First read through, I was the man with the hole in his head, dying having to listen to this guy go on and on while lying there taking my last breath. How must it feel to have someone saying these things to you while you die. Would it be comforting, helping to distract from the pain? It was so real for me and the letter he reads is so very touching, I almost cried. Just beautiful. I then was the guy doing the talking. I could never decided if he hated this man he was sitting with or trying to comfort him, or perhaps it was nerves making him go on. Whatever it was, I loved it. It's really good work and as I mentioned before, this is not my kind of read, I thought Twilight was fantastic. LOL I knew you would like that. But I was able to sympathize with both characters in this scene for so many different reasons. It's raw and authentic.

  3. #3
    Senior Member
    Join Date
    Aug 2010

    Re: Gliders............... re-jiggered

    A bit too much "sir."

  4. #4
    martin shaw

    Re: Gliders............... re-jiggered

    Thanks Amy.. I'm pleased you liked it. The letter nearly made me cry, when writing it.

    You're right, leslee, but I can't see the wood from the trees with this at the moment


  5. #5
    Junior Member
    Join Date
    Jan 2011

    Re: Gliders............... re-jiggered

    With all the 'sirs' and formal tone the MC seems to be a 'batman' or British officers aide. The fast pace kept my attention. Once I knew the men were in a war-zone I felt the pace was due to the aide's nervousness, or shock. Then you have the man say he works in a cafeteria, but I still feel he is tied to the wounded man somehow. This is really abstract and spiral, what with bi-planes and poppies, perhaps a hint at Flanders fields from WW1, so the twin towers and Porsche 911 are cosmic and feverish. A little bit of a comma nightmare, but the imagery of the piece camoulflaged them. This could have appeared on the old Monty Python, with John Cleese narrating.

    Fun read. Al.

  6. #6
    martin shaw

    Re: Gliders............... re-jiggered

    Thanks for your time, Al. Yeah... got a 'comma nightmare' going on, full time... ha.

    I'm pleased you enjoyed

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