I was in the park near my house, back home in California. The world was under invasion by bad guys and also there was a big carnival going on. I decided to fly around to fight bad guys and check out the carnival games. People were cowering / eating cotton candy. I needed to act. I needed to take flight. Only for some reason the only way I knew how to fly was very un-heroic. I sat down and sort of balanced on my tailbone and started kicking my legs as if at a toddler swim lesson and flapping my arms and hands really, really fast, like, as fast as I could. Slowly, slowly I floated up off the ground and started careening around, but not accomplishing anything like fighting bad guys because it took all my concentration just to flap my limbs fast enough to fly. It seemed weird that such frantic activity could produce such smooth flying. I began to feel self-conscious and flapped up higher to where there were some airplanes and bombs but couldn’t get much done up there so I just enjoyed the ride.
PS—Before I stopped dancing, probably half of my dreams involved
flying. Now they rarely do.
[submitted by Seth]
0 Responses to “Flappy Flying”