Weekly Challenge #128 – Airplane

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Twenty-Eight, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was selected by Brad Z, and we went with Airplane.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

What stories do you think were the best of Weekly Challenge #128?
Guy David from http;//guydavid.com
Jeff Hite from http://greathites.blogspot.com/
Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com/
Steven the Nuclear Man from http://ideatrash.blogspot.com/
Brad Z from http://mutecow.net/
Wilma
Laieanna from http://hodgepodgepoint.libsyn.com/
Anima Zabaleta from http://zabbadabba.com/
Mike
Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):


GUY DAVID

Meeting Harriet and Bob left Chaketo Chirapa a little shaken. Harriet
was friendly enough, though a little too friendly, but Bob, that was
another matter altogether. There was a look in his eyes Chaketo
Chirapa didn’t like at all. He though about his Chirapa, left alone
without a leader while he was out meeting podcasters, actors and
people in strange alien suits that looked nothing like the real
aliens he had seen in pictures back home. Home. He could almost see
the underground tunnels. A sudden wave of yearning washed over him.
He decided to catch the next airplane home.

JEFF HITE

“Look, up in the sky.”
“Hey, is that the Flashback?”
“Come on, you know the Flashback doesn’t fly. It must Superguy!”
“Are you crazy? Superguy’s costume doesn’t look anything like that. Maybe it is one of the of league of bad guys.”
“Do they even have anyone that can fly like that? I thought they all had machines to help them fly.”
“True, true. Then who could it be?”
“What are you guys doing?”
“Oh Hi, we are trying to figure out what super hero that is up there.”
“Really? Where?”
“Right up there.”
“That thing?”
“Yup that one.”
“Dudes that’s and airplane.”

Justin

The Kamikaze pilot drank and began trying to impress the girl next to him with a war story.
My Zero lifted from the runway and I flew high into the air. It was my sole duty and honor to die that day. I flew in with the sun at my back so the enemy could not easily see me. But there were already enemy airplanes flying, and from the side, they spotted me! I dodged their fire, shooting one plane down, then flew my Zero into the side of a destroyer, leaving a deadly wound.
When did this happen?
Tomorrow.

Tom

They gather about the bamboo frame representation of the sky god. They had been gathering since 1937. When the oxford anthropologist inquire to the deity’s name a older Micronesian told her they called the god Amelia. Some what rattled by the revelation she asked if the old woman had actually talked to the aviator. “Sure, want to meet her?” After climbing to the top of Myamypoa the anthropologist spied the Lockheed Electra 10E. There in the cockpit was Earhart speaking calmly into a radio set who’s battery had long been dead. Her battery however was good for another 1000 years.

Steven the Nuclear Man

College-ruled paper had never looked so violent before.
“Rat-a-tat-tat!” Sam maneuvered the folded remains of the notepad
into familiar twisting dogfights. “K-pow!” One, then two paper
planes went down in imaginary flames.
My old injuries ached, and I shifted against the smooth leather of my
chair. Who had told my grandson? Who had let him watch the video?
“Then,” the boy narrated, “the bastards snuck up from behind and …
boom!” The last plane – my plane – spiraled to the green carpet.
“That’s how it happened, right grandpa?”
I rose, balanced on my prosthetic legs, and left the house in silence.

Brad Z

Yellow wands taxi the aircraft into place. A grateful Tomcat kneels in
gratitude and prepares for flight once again. Maintenance personal
scurry around the aircraft in a well choreographed dance that
completes the final check. Raw power illuminates the night as fire
erupts from the exhaust. Vibration rattles to your bones as full power
is reached. Personal signal everything is go. Salutes are given. The
catapult speeds down the deck with the aircraft in tow and the Tomcat
becomes airborne once again. Jet blast deflectors are lowered. The
dancers await their next partner as she taxis up to the catapult.

Wilma

What’s a lovely like you doing at Sid’s?
I love the romantic atmosphere scented with sweat and grease, a real ladies’
place. What’s your story cowboy?
Name’s Airplane. I ride with the Angels.
Why Airplane?
I have powerful legs. I propel myself off my bike and fly with my arms out
to the side, like an airplane.
Do you do that for shits and giggles?
Nah. For the biker bros. I fly over them I tap them on their third eye
giving them a vision they need to see.
And you roll with the Hell’s Angels?
No, not those angels.

Laieanna

“Welcome to Angel Planes where we take you beyond the sky.”
“Angel. You mean I’m…”
“How else would you come to the halfway point?”
“But mankind has planes.”
“Thank the muses. Name?”
“I remember driving but…what was that?”
“Realization. Let’s move on. Name?”
“Edward Nelson.”
“Oh dear. I’m afraid you’re not booked for a flight, sir.”
“Why not? Are you saying I’m going down there?”
“Unfortunately. Just take that hall to your left and when you reach..”
“I’m flying to damnation?”
“Not at all. When you reach the end of the hall, take the helevator. It
goes straight to ground floor.”

Anima

Uncle Louie is magical when he makes airplanes.
A crease here, a fold there, and then he blows a little fairy dust under the
wings to make them fly right.
He’s so good, he even gives his planes windows.
“Why windows?” I asked
“So people can look out, silly.”
A few puffs, and I have a fleet!
Evening settles in, I want something more.
“Do planes fly when they’re on fire?”
“Hmmm…Let’s walk down to the lake and find out….”
I light wings and launch the planes over the water.
“Ooooo! Look! you can see the people panicking inside!”

Mike

(text missing)

Planet Z

Back in WW2, I worked on decoys.
Inflatable tanks. Rubber soldiers. Balsawood airplanes.
One night, while manning the lights at a fake airfield, a colonel arrives on a motorcycle and yells for a plane.
The Red Baron is on the loose! He shouts.
Drunk as a skunk.
Before I can stop him, he’s hopped in a decoy fighter and yelling for the
crew to arm him and taxi him to the runway.
My laughter stopped when the rubber men began to stir.
I didn’t come out of the tower until after he landed, hoisted shoulders-high to the empty Officers Club.