"Just One of Those Days"

THEME: Humour

RATING: PG.

FEEDBACK: I'm always eager to hear your views so contact me and let me know at tanyajoy74@hotmail.com

 

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Have you ever had a gun pointed at you with a crazy, fanatical, maniac threatening to pull the trigger? Not the greatest experience in the world, is it? The feelings even worse when the self-same nutzoid wants to kill you in outer space. When you know that a stray bullet could puncture something vital to your existence and it's not necessarily your body either.

That happened to me not that long ago when I was involved in the first outer space hijacking. Not something to be proud of that. Not something you'd tell the whole world about. "Hi. I'm Becky Jacobs one of the victims of the first outer space hijacking. How are you?"

My parents had a quiet freak when they discovered I was on that ship. Old fashioned, that's what my parents are. "If God had wanted us to live in outer space He would have given a spaceship to Adam and Eve, by golly!"

If they had been around when man first ventured into space they would have chained themselves to those old rockets and chanted slogans like 'Hell no you won't go' or 'What do we want? Our feet on the ground. When do we want it? Right now thank you very much'.

I mean, it's not as if I went aboard that ship knowing it was going to be hijacked. Who did they think I was Luke Skywalker who can see into the future? Not a bad movie that when you think about it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Anyway. It all started about two and a half months ago when I booked a seat on the New York to Buzz Aldrin Moonbase shuttle. Nice, comfy ride that, nothing out of the ordinary. Just there and back in eight hours, twice a month, twelve months a year.

I suppose I should have guessed something was up when I found myself seated next to an old man with twitchy eyes and a turban on his head. I mean a turban on his head, in this century? Obviously this guys from the wrong time zone. No one has worn those since the late 2030's. I really should have been nervous when I noticed eight or nine of his buddies sitting all around us with twitchy eyes and turbans on their heads. I just figured they were some sort of club. You know the 'Twitchy Eyed, Turban Headed, Old Mans Golfing Club'. The Armstrong Golf Course is really popular at the moment. What with the hundred and first anniversary of the first man on the moon and all.

So I did nothing. Smug in the fact that in the forty years of commercial space travel not once had a shuttle been hijacked. The only thing you had to worry about was how to work the food out of the tubes without it floating away. As you can understand that can be quite a problem for first time travelers, which was most of the passengers. The poor hostesses spent most of the flight floating about with nets trying to scoop up orbiting hamburger goop.

It must have been about three hours into the flight and I was trying to squeeze my apple sundae from the tube while dodging hostesses with nets and tiny missiles in the forms of kids who had escaped the confines of their seatbelts and were literally bouncing off the walls. I swear there should be a law about kids in spaceships. If parents can't control the little brats they shouldn't have them at all.

As I said it was about this time when the old guy next to me woke up. Bit of a shock that. I'd thought maybe he'd kicked the bucket he'd been so quiet. I would later come to realise that was wishful thinking on my behalf.

He seemed innocent enough to begin with, just muttering to himself. I decided to talk to him. You know help out international relationships a little.

"Hello mate. How you doin'? Nice hat you've got there."

"Silence heathen, infidel or you'll be roasted in hell," he replied with twitchy eyes.

Obviously this guy is not into idle chitchat.

One of his cronies turned around and started talking to 'Twitchy'. Didn't know what he was saying though. I flunked ancient 20th Century Arabic in high school.

Old 'Twitchy' started screaming "No, no, no," and waving his arms about.

I thought he was having a fit or something but he soon settled down and went back to sleep. His crony glared at me and turned back around. I took the hint and turned on my compact disc walkperson to listen to some 20th Century rock 'n' roll. I like classical music.

I was half way through some old favourites when old 'Twitchy' woke up again. He grunted to himself, undid his seatbelt and started for the front of the shuttle. I thought he was off for a leak, which can be a bit of an adventure in space, you know. Anyway I thought he had to go until I realised that he was headed for the front of the shuttle not the back. Not only that but so was his cronies. Even if they had been heading for the back there wouldn't have been enough vacuum sucking toilets to go around.

Old 'Twitchy' finally reached the front and dodged a piece of orbiting goop and an out of control hostess before turning around. He quietly glared at the passengers while his cronies gathered around him. His eyes twitched as he pulled an antique machine gun from his loose fitting coat. The passengers gasped and cried out in horror. I felt like I was in an old 2D B-grade movie.

"You are all heathens who deserve to die. But before that happens I need to take command of this ship." 'Twitchy' grabbed a hostess who was floating past. "You will take me to the pilot of this ship."

The hostess nodded and started floating towards the cockpit door. 'Twitchy' spoke rapidly to his cronies who then took out guns of their own.

"Anyone who resists us will be shot," bellowed 'Twitchy' as he disappeared after the hostess.

I was beginning to feel bored so I turned my walkperson back on, turning it up real loud. The cronies glared at me and one of them pointed his gun in my direction. Not that I was looking, I was too busy head banging the seat in front of me.

"Hey you. Noisy heathen, shut up or I will shoot," shouted the nearest crony.

Shame I couldn't hear him. I was to busy singing "You gotta fight, uh uh, for your right. To PAAR-TAY".

Now I've been told that my singing isn't much and unfortunately the crony agreed. So it was no surprise that I soon found myself up the front of the shuttle with half a dozen guns pointed at me.

Great going Rebecca. You jerk! I thought to myself.

Out loud I said. "So, what's cooking guys? Which terrorist country are you from anyway?"

One of the cronies stuck his gun up my right nostril. "Shut up, heathen."

Talk about a one-track mind. These guys were not into pleasantries.

Thinking quickly I made a waving motion at the nearest crony. "You will let me go," I intoned in my best 'I'm a big bad Jedi and your not' voice.

The crony just glared and wedged his gun further up my nose.

"Umm. Republican credits will do fine?" I countered more hesitantly. "Hey what are you a Toydarian?" I stepped backwards and was quietly relieved to find no boogers on the end of the gun. "I'll just float here quietly, O.K.?"

I was desperately trying to think of a way out of my situation when old 'Twitchy' suddenly returned. Talk about a shock. I don't know who was worse him or me. 'Twitchy's' eyes nearly twitched out of his head while his turban slipped over one ear.

"What is this heathen doing here? Why is she not shot? You call yourselves men of Allah, the Merciful? You are nothing but Christians," he screamed.

I winced, that bit about Christians was a low blow.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Now I've always believed in positive thinking and right now I was trying to think myself somewhere else. Anywhere, even the vacuum sucking toilets. And that was desperate thinking. 'Twitchy' moved closer and squinted at me.

"Hey. You're the heathen I was sitting next to," he exclaimed.

"Yeah that's me, your mate," I said, hoping to get on his good side.

'Twitchy' screeched. "I hate heathen mates," he paused thoughtfully. "But wait. You might be useful as a hostage when we land on the moonbase."

Oh brilliant! Now I'm to become 'Twitchy's' personal hostage. Lucky me.

"Yes I like that idea," said 'Twitchy'. "You will all take a hostage for protection."

'Twitchy' surveyed the shocked passengers. His bulging eyes roved over them, coming to rest on eight puny men in matching white jumpsuits.

'Twitchy' cackled to himself. "Take those eight. We'll be landing soon so be ready."

One of the soon to be hostages moaned while another turned pale and looked like he was about to vomit.

The next ten minutes produced a pretty good impersonation of hell. I was curious as to why I was able to remain so calm. I finally put it down to extreme shock. The captain came on over the intercom and shakingly informed us that we would be landing soon and would we please strap ourselves into our seats.

"You're in for it now pal," I informed 'Twitchy', who was once again seated next to me. "I bet the captain has informed the United Nation's Guards about you. You're in big trouble."

"More than likely. Why do you think you are now a hostage? You and those eight men will enable us to go anywhere and do anything."

Drat I hadn't thought of that. This guy's not as dumb as he looks.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Finally we landed. As soon as the engines had stopped 'Twitchy' had me up and heading for the main airlock.

"Hurry brothers, we must leave," snapped 'Twitchy'. "Open this airlock."

Two of his cronies worked the manual to open the 'lock. I was curious about what sort of welcoming committee would be waiting for us. I wasn't disappointed. Hundreds of U.N Guards were there, so was the local law and the press. They were everywhere. I must admit I was impressed.

"Jeez. All that's missing is the red carpet," I exclaimed.

Just then a red carpet came rolling towards us from the midst of some official looking people.

"Nice touch," I quipped.

"Keep moving heathen," barked one of the cronies.

The procession down the red carpet was slow. All around us lights flashed and the sun glinted off metal guns. Now I know how the Australian Royal family must feel like. Halfway down the carpet one of the hostages grabbed his stomach and fell doubled up on the ground. One of his friends moved towards him.

"Mike are you OK?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Mike replied.

"You sure?" questioned his friend.

"Yes. Now do it," screamed Mike.

Immediately all eight men turned and attacked the terrorists. The air was filled with arms and legs and yells of outrage. All I could do was stand there with my mouth hanging down around my knees. Just as suddenly as the fight had started it stopped. All around were the moaning bodies of the terrorists.

I whooped with delight and punched the air. "Alright Jackie Chan," I exclaimed as the guy called Mike walked towards me.

"Miss are you alright?" he asked.

"Huh? Oh I'm fine," I replied, quite amazed. "How are you?"

"Oh don't worry about us miss. We're professionals," he said. "We're here for the national karate tournament."

"Obviously," I said not quite sure how to cope with the situation. "Lucky for me huh?"

Somebody shouted behind us and we turned to see the press rushing towards us for the scoop of the decade.

"Oh well. So much for the peaceful holiday," I muttered as I popped my sunglasses on and produced my most winning smile.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Well that's what happened to me. We were the highlight in the news for a few days then quietly disappeared. 'Twitchy' and his band of not so merry turbaned men were sent to the floating prison for twenty-four years. While I decided to take up karate, just in case. Cause you never know when you might need it, do you?

 

THE END.