Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! “Broca Squadron Alert: Pun Threat Imminent!”
Charlie groaned. Just as he was starting to enjoy that memory. It figured. (More)
Midday Matinee is our people watching, people doing and people being feature. Join the Woodland Creatures for an afternoon break.
Welcome back to Tuesday’s Tale, a weekly feature where we collaborate to write a story. Previous Tuesday’s Tales include The Real Estate Ad and The Transcendental Board. We follow the basic rules of the “Yes, And” improvisational game – accept everything written so far as part of the story, and add your own paragraph (or so) where the last addition left off – except you needn’t begin your addition with “Yes, and.” I’ll start the story….
In the next synapse, Bob laughed. “Yeah, I figured you’d be watching her.”
“She is cute,” Charlie said as he put on his flight suit. “This better not be another false alarm.”
Adam, always a step ahead and proud of his role as squadron leader, had already donned his helmet. “I don’t think so. The tower guys sound serious.”
Charlie put on his helmet as he climbed into the cockpit of his Ancil-251 Neurointerceptor. The tower chatter began to flash across his cells-up display:
Climate conditions are classroom boredom. Class clown emissions detected.
“That does sound serious,” Charlie said.
“The class clown swarms are the absolute worst,” Bob agreed.
“Cow jumps fence. Udder destruction,” Charlie said, watching his groanometer. The needle barely moved. He toggled his mike. “I need to recalibrate, guys.”
“Or try a new joke,” Adam said. “The instruments wear out if you use the same one over and over.”
Launch for vector Animal, the cells-up display ordered.
“Oh please, oh please, let it be an armadillo,” Charlie said.
“Forget about her,” Bob said. “Just fly the mission.”
“You’re no fun,” Charlie said.
“Knock off the chatter,” Adam ordered. “Here it comes!”
“Duck!” Bob yelled.
Charlie instinctively flinched and then saw his cells-up display. Sure enough, it displayed a quantum-level image of a duck. He chuckled. “Quark, quark.”
His groanometer squealed.
“We’re supposed to be shooting them down, not launching them!” Adam yelled.
“Bill me,” Charlie said, making his groanometer squeal again.