Day 93: Still writing

Treading water a little bit but getting better at other real life things.  Will be a writer.  Almost through with Warriners Grammar book (the big red one where you teach yourself everything).

Need more of a dedication to theme.

That's all I got today.  Getting started.

             Debris fell from the sky in the form of a scrambled omelette getting spilling on the floor.  Bigger pieces clanked against the pier, Space Cowboy turned his body lengthwise as he dodged around large girders splitting through the air.  He reached for his gun to shoot one that fell in front of his path to the pier, it tumbled end over end in an unpredictable way, but the gun finally slipped out of the holster after it had already landed in front of him.  He shot it anyway, and the little piece heated to a bright red glare.  He hadn’t been exercising it regularly.  His ungloved hands flinched and he dropped the gun into the abyss, dropping immediately onto his hands and knees and peering over the side into the endless emptiness.  The space below wasn’t quite clouds, and it wasn’t quite water, and it lacked distinguishing properties.  Luckily it produced buoyancy, and the gun floated back up to the top.  He grabbed it quickly, tiny black hands popping out of the surface on the lagoon after him.

            A man was split into two behind him and all he heard was the sound, like a loaf of balogna being sliced.  He turned around to see a giant metallic object that looked like a pizza cutter moving by its own volition, floating with a wobbily sheet metal noise.  It turned completely vertical, like a peacock showing off its plumage.  Space Cowboy let loose a barrage of lasers at it, his hand recalling the searing agony of overusing the gun in the past.  The lasers reflected and shot skyward, the oil from the tumbling barge bursting into flames and vaporizing in a blue hiss.

            “Hey!”  A guard called from up by the brick buildings in a row.  He pushed out into the street from behind the front door of the old galla, rubbing his eyes.  “You, you’re the Space Cowboy!  That’s the Chopper!  You’re firing the Chopper!”

            Roustabout kids scrambled on their hands and knees up the side of the pier, a wooden structure that led into a galleys.  Space Cowboy saw his ship at the end of the pier, hanging in the air like an inflateable intertube.  It was nothing to write home about, but it got him from place to place. 

            Space Cowboy pulled his hat over his eyes, offering a ostensible protection from the madness ensuing around him.  The guards by the pier hit the ground, covering their heads like a bomb had been dropped.

             It was just this residential guy who showed interest.  They looked at eachother, Space Cowboy careful not to move too quickly.  Each skittish step he took further away from the house, the man would ease out further like a dog on a leash.

            The sky started to cry black splotches, which when they fell splattered much like gigantic raindrops.  Whatever they touched was coated completely, the tarlike consistency drenching the pier like an oilspill.  In fact, it was an oil spill, as the sputtering gurgling aircraft carrier above was scraping its tank across an invisible boundary into a new nothingness.

            “That was awful city planning.”  Space Cowboy said, and begun his run down the pier at full speed.  The man by the house went back inside, doubtless to make a phone call. 

            Space Cowboy swung the steel grating of his ship open, the familiar smell of the leather interior reminding him of the old days on the prairie.  The outer vestibule of the ship was completely vacant of design frills or color, the engine on the opposite side of the chamber whirring idly.  The room was a dark blue circle housing a rectangular room in the middle, with a submarine style hatch entrance.  Space Cowboy spun the wheel on the door and jumped through, the interior of the next room a sight for sore eyes.  His girly posters hung from the walls, the dashboard was completely broken and replaced with christmas lights, the wicker chair he replaced the suggested pilot seat with.  The operating system consisted of four levers and a row of red buttons, all of which Space Cowboy had learned how to use only from trial and error.

            He pulled a cold coffee flavored beverage from the minifridge and ignored the sound of objects bouncing off the hull of the ship.  He reached for and pulled the middle lever, chugging the coffee smelling thing while the ship turned to a ninety degree angle and spat itself up into space.

           He flew by the air craft carrier tanker at a close shave, hitting a red button repeatedly to steady the wagon.  The giant ship emerged into the membranous void of the sky with no beginning or end, as it continued to come closer it revealed the impossible breadth of its design.  Millions of passengers watched in horror from the windows as they plummetted helplessly to the planet outposts surface. 

From the other side of the dock, the Space Ranger loomed on horseback, his body resting on top of the horse completely upright.  It ran directly into a giant invisible metal object, both falling sidelong off of the pier into the empty sky.

             A group of guards stood flabregasted staring directly up, like angry tenants waiting for someone to turn the power back on.  The majority of debris fell passively into the water, the rest of it bouncing insubstantially off of the seemingly unbreakable metal pier.  Space Cowboy refrained from looking in the mirror down on the planet anymore, turning the satellite security camera monitor off as well.

He rested back in the chair, kicking his feet up onto the dashboard.  After a few minutes, the explosion from the planet pushed him far out of the gravitational pull, the inside of his stomach feeling like something that had been in the microwave too long.  He unfolded an itinerary hanging from an overhead storage compartment, reading to the part where he was.

“Kenny, you poor sucker.”  He thought outloud.  “I’m going back to New Dallas.”

I had better keep this up on a daily basis again.  It becomes a real pain in the ass to make it to 1,000.