Enid Writer’s Club April Roll Call. Must be 150 words or less. The prompt: “Jumping from a plane.”
The engine coughed, then died. No option. Quickly shouldering on the parachute, I made ready.
God knows how I would miss this plane. She had been good to me through so many dog fights, even having survived the Red Barron, but not today. Nothing more than a faulty engine and a soon-to-be-fired mechanic.
Racing to the rear of the plane and sliding open the door, I gently kissed the fuselage. “I’ll never forget you,” I said and jumped.
When I landed, my disapproving wife was standing there.
“Harold! You’re an embarrassment,” she said, hands on hips.
“That may be,” I responded, whisking my white silk scarf over my shoulder, “but I’ve got three more quarters.”
The kids standing outside the Piggly Wiggly waiting their turn on the kiddie plane groaned as I inserted my coin and waited for those magical words.
“Barron Killer Nine, you are cleared for takeoff….”