A quick flash fiction, because I want to lighten things up around here, and because Mr Wendig’s prompts are always amazing. This week, the prompts are inspired by kooky things his son #bdub has said. So without further ado, here’s my (very) short story.
“Can I put goggles on the dog?”
Mom rolled her eyes. She thought I didn’t see, but I always saw when she did that.
“Just…because. So can I? Pleeease?”
“Ok. Just don’t annoy him too much.”
I ran back to Mr Freckles, who was still sitting where I left him, panting and smiling.
“Ok, hold still. You’ll need these for our adventure.”
I put the goggles on him, making sure not to get his ears caught in the strap. (They’re my little sister’s, so they’re green with frogs on the corners.) I put on my own goggles (mine are red with rocket ships on them!) and we climbed into the cockpit.
“Ready Mr Freckles?”
“Ok, let’s go. Countdown: three, two, ONE!”
We blasted off, shooting higher than the big tree in my backyard, higher than the roof of my house, and started circling the neighborhood.
“Whooaaa – look, there’s PJ’s swimming pool! And there’s Susie riding her bike. Hi Susie!”
I waved down to her and laughed as her jaw dropped open. A bird flew by us, and Mr Freckles barked at it.
“Let’s race him!” I yelled, and I pushed the TURBO button on our ship.
We zoomed faster through the sky, passing the bird – who squawked at us – and we flew up into the clouds, and Mr Freckles tried to eat them. The sky was so blue, like the ice-pops Mom just bought and put in the freezer. (Maybe I’ll have one later.)
I steered our ship left and right, up and down, and Mr Freckles’ tail thumped against the seat. My blanket cape flapped behind me like Superman’s. Or Batman’s.
We came down through the clouds and flew over my school. The playground was totally empty, even my favorite swing on the swing-set. I let go of the controls and lifted my hands over my head, feeling the wind blowing between my fingers.
“No more school! Whoooo!”
“Shhhh!” came my Mom’s voice. “You’ll wake your sister.”
We landed in my backyard. Sheets flapped on the clothesline, and the air smelled like soap and fresh-cut grass. I climbed out of my cardboard spaceship and took off my goggles. Mr Freckles had already pawed his off. He ran and pounced on a tennis ball under the bushes. Mom picked up her laundry basket and opened the creaky screen door.
“Why don’t you teach him how to play fetch?”
“Yeah! Come on Mr Freckles. This is going to be the best summer vacation ever!”