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May 21, 2010, 09:15 PM
My plans are in my blog
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Don't go down there.

On the west side of Cemetary Hill sits a jungle of willow bushes so thick that sound barely escapes. When it does, I'm told, it resembles choking and sputtering, anger and anguish. Whistles are known to be heard by those passing by. Shadows, like monsters, scurry about in the breeze. Mother always said never to play near it.

Cool Kelly was an R/C flyer, and favored building his own planes from foam material. He enjoyed using depron a lot, but would take whatever was on sale, as his meager weekly allowance couldn't support two hobbies - r/c planes and paying off zit-faced Charlie to leave him alone at recess.

It was late evening when he and Johnny went out to fly. Johnny didn't fly much though, he was all thumbs as they say. He was there to give Cool Kelly atta-boys, if anything.
The plane in hand was Dekan's F-22. This was the newest plane in Cool Kelly's hanger. It was the only plane in the hanger - all others were, shall we say," given" away?
"Make sure the controls are set right." said Johnny. "You remember what happened yesterday, don't you?"
"But I didn't fly yesteday."
"Exactly. Nothing happened yesterday, so make sure nothing happens today."
Sometimes Johnny made sense. Like when he said CK could earn double his money back if he invests in his lemonade stand. Unfortunately, CK only pulled in fifty cents that day. It wasn't anyone's fault the lemonade didn't taste right. Johnny couldn't tell salt from sugar.

The F-22 took to the sky, burnng holes as it went. Loops, rolls, then a few other nameauver's Johnny didn't know CK could do.
"That was cool, do it again."
"Do what?"
"What you just did."
"What did I just do?"
"That thing you just did, it was cool."
"You mean trying not to crash? Thats what I'm doing. Thats the only thing I'm doing."
"But I just saw you do that thing right there."
"Yeah, its a maneauver called how not to crash."
"Did you invent it?"
CK mumbled something in spanish, words he seen in a movie once.
Up from behind came a different voice. CK and Johnny knew that voice all too well. Instinctively they both reached into their pockets to pull out what money that they had. At this point the plane crashed into the willows.
"Oh no." whispered CK.
Zit-faced Charlie began to laugh.
"What a bunch of dumb pretend pilots you guys are."
CK and Johnny withdrew their hands after Zit-faced Charlie took their money.
"Give me that!" Zit-faced Charlie yelled, trying to grab CK's tranmitter.
But CK was faster. He wasn't about to let anyone steal his favorite transmitter. It was a gift from his uncle.
Out of frustration Zit-faced Charlie pushed CK down.
"Where did your - I mean, MY plane go?"
CK stood up. He and Johnny both pointed to the spot they felt the plane landed in.
"You can have it if you get it." said CK, as if to dare Zit-face to go down there.
"I can have it anyway. I don't need your permission or blessing, got it dude?"
Zit-face began to go down the hill side, entering the bushes.
"Didn't your mom ever tell you-"
CK tapped Johnny in the ribs, shaking his head to him. Johnny knew what he meant.
"I mean, yeah, go get that F-22. Its yours already, right?"
They watched as Zit-face began to submerge into utter darkness of the bushes. All they could see was the shaking of willow tops. They were able to track zit-face's path towards the spot.
Presently, a voice came from the bushes.
"I got it. I got my plane, you dorks."
Johnny shouted a few kudos, and the offered a high-five to CK, but he didn't play along, but stared at the bushes intently. Johnny could sense that CK was begining to sadden.
"He's coming out with my plane. He's going to steal my plane again. He's taken all of them. I don't know what to do."
At this instant screams began to come from the bushes! Startled, the two flyers began to run around themselves, bumping into one another.
"What do we do? I heard Zit-face scream."
Sounds of terrible fightling came from deep within the thicket, then it stopped.
Silence surrounded the two as they stared at the willows. A few moments passed but they did not move their eyes from the bushes.
Whistles began to emerge. Two distinct whistles. As if something is communticating with another.
CK began to whistle a tune, of which he was making up as he went.
Suddenly, the F-22 emerged from the willows like one spits out watermelon seeds on their kid brother.
Using the transmitter, CK quickly took control of his plane. Johnny stepped back in amazement. Together they began to yell in celebration as CK landed his plane near their feet.
"What do we do about Zit-face?"
"Oh, I figure he's got what he had coming. Mayhe something's taking his lunch money!"
"What do you want to do now?"
"I don't know. How about you?"
"Let's go sell lemonade."

The end
Last edited by Rusty-Gunn; May 05, 2013 at 08:05 PM.
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Apr 22, 2011, 07:33 PM
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RknRusty's Avatar
That's a great story, thanks for the literary entertainment.
May 01, 2011, 10:07 AM
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boingk's Avatar
Cheers mate, had a certain air about it that really caught me.

Keep up the good stuff - boingk

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