Perspective

The chair has been with me for years. I met my Betty at a dance, the prize, this very chair. Who would have thought a hoedown win would be so…so precious to me. I sit here, one hand on the chair, the other on Rufus’s head, rocking slowly, listening to Rufus pant and Betty fuss around in the kitchen. To her, the chair is a piece  of junk. But to me, this here rockin’ chair is my throne.

I watch that old man, patting that mutt. That drooling mutt. I guess I’m no better. I’m drooling over that fine, oak wood. I get tingles just thinking about it. God, what I wouldn’t do to sink my teeth into that wood. Now I really am drooling and I’m practically drowning in it but I don’t care. Why? Why do humans build such temptingly scrumpcious things and not expect a termite like myself to come and munch on the fruits of their labor? I move closer. Maybe just a nibble, I say to myself, opening wide. As I prepare to bite, that stupid mutt opens his mouth, forcing my attention away from the chair. Another human. Oh great. This guy has a big nose and some really big feet. Hey wait, those feet are-AH! *squash*

“Hello sir,” I greet, pulling out my business card. The old man just looks at me, his butt ruining the finest rocking chair I have ever seen South of Virgina. I remind myself to approach with caution. Beside the marvelous chair is the old man’s shot gun. Oh dear. “Sir, that there is the finest rocking chair I’ve seen this far South. I’m an antique collector and I would simply love to purchase it from you.” Again,the old man just looks at me, like I’ve got three heads or something.  Slowly, he rocks. His dog has begun to gnaw on the chair arm, every chop like a thousand swords through my heart. The old man pats his dog. “Sorry, fancy pants. Rufus likes the chair too much for me to sell it.”

Chu chu! Too many days on the tracks but alas, I finally see the station. Finally, some rest! I cannot wait. Hopefully, without the conductor noticing, I speed up, eager for these noisy humans to stream out of me. Those terrible kids have forced my cushioned seats into a flat submission. Station, I chant. Over and over again as I speed toward the station. My lack of sleep motivates me. Faster! Faster.  Like I’m racing against some unknown enemy. Faster! Faster! Salvation. I pull into the station, feeling those snotty brats run out, focusing on torturing the benches at the stop with their nose picking and sticky fingers. Good riddance. The station master approaches with another conductor in tow. They speak to my conductor and I realize with dread that the new conductor needs the train. Inwardly I groan as I feel more humans board me. There are even more nose picking, sticky fingered kids. Sometimes I hate the station. This is my last thought before I force myself into a steady chug.

I fly through that damn pillar of smoke, oblivious to it at first. Not anymore. Now I can’t breathe or see. Blasted train! Infernal human torture contraption! Why must thee pollute my precious lungs? Man, I really need to stop listening to old men reciting Shakespeare in the park.  I dive low and land on top of the train. At least these stupid things are good for something though not much.

I run and run, breath slow as I push past people, knocking some over with my suitcase. I barely have time to apologize. Hailee made me late, shopping at such a slow speed and then having the audacity to drive like my grandmother. Yeah, like Misha couldn’t have waited just a little longer to be picked up. I hear them behind me. “Move!” Misha yells , whacking people out of her way with her suitcase. Hailee is bringing up the rear, waiting for Misha to clear the way for her. I ignore them both. I can’t be late. Not for this meeting.  The train is already pulling out of the station. Damn!

And around and around and around. My passengers are lucky they’re hot. Otherwise, I would sooo not put up with the over the speed limit speed and the gravelly feel of highway against my face. And the noise! Oh dear, do not get me started on the noise.  I hear my passengers arguing. “Ariha! Slow down,” yells the girl in the back seat. She’s hanging out the window a bit, lookin’ a little green. The girl in the passenger seat is waving her hands out the window and the driver? Well, she’s lost her mind. But, like I said, they’re lucky they’re hot.

I have found them. Among all the cars and humans on this God forsaken highway, I have found them. And they don’t even see me. Yet. Should I dive bomb them or just report back to master. Dive bombing sounds fun. I angle and launch. Ariha sees me and turns, her gun aimed at me. Boosh! Her bullet pierces my wing. The agony! I fall, body hitting that hard gravel, watching the car speed away. I swear that tire is laughing at me. I groan, rolling over, little pebbles  sinking into my skin. Damn it all! And now here comes a car! Wait! NO! AHHH!!!

“Oh we are flying in an airplane, looking out a window, watching the clouds go by. c/ c/.” She looked at me, expression somber. “Shut up, now,” she ordered. I grinned, looking out the window.  And that’s when my heart dropped. I had no clue where we were. All I knew was that the road, black and simmering with midday heat was covered in cars. “Uh, heh heh, Shina, where are we?” I asked. Shina grinned at me. “Got us lost huh? Not a good thing when it’s your first day as head pilot. At this rate, you are so demoted.” She sat back crossing her arms. “Good luck, Captain.” I turned back to the control, heart pounding. I had screwed up BIG TIME and Shina was willing to let me pay. But I wasn’t. I narrowed my eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of some sign to the nearest airport.  At least then, I wouldn’t be responsible for having to make a crash landing just because we ran out of fuel.

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~ by arihaxxx on March 31, 2011.

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