just three weeks ago while on a hot air balloon scanning the Greek islands for improper handling of the endangered species of Caretta sea turtle Bev spotted an off shore ship sailing to the west with the words "Panda Express" written just atop the barnacles plastered along the side. with an immense passion for Panda bears Bev navigated the balloon to reach alongside the boat traveling at a gusty 43 knots. her intentions as of yet were unknown. for the spontaneity of her character is what willed her into such a circumstance.
maybe she would capture a Panda as a pet for a brief period of time only to take it back to its mother land and release it back into the jungle? maybe she will join the crew for breakfast tea and discuss their adventures across the great oceans and beyond?
maybe she would capture a Panda as a pet for a brief period of time only to take it back to its mother land and release it back into the jungle? maybe she will join the crew for breakfast tea and discuss their adventures across the great oceans and beyond?
it turns out the crew had also spotted Bev, given that she was floating distinctively nearby with all the multi colorful patterns of her balloon reflecting the mornings sun like a brightly lit lollipop. but this was far from encouraging a sweet tooth hunger as one might have hoped from the grizzly faced and sun-beaten sea farers. for they were on a mission. to take these stolen pandas to Paraguay. to sell them illegally to seven different zoos. seven pandas. seven zoos.
immediately a blazing sound of gun shots rang from the ships deck. Bev was curios at first then heavily alarmed for the gravity of the situation came rolling in at full force. her balloon was made of a light weight nylon fabric which could easily become punctured under the velocity as something as small and metallic as that of a bullet. soon enough the balloons envelope became distressed and mangled to form the shape of a discarded, crushed, flattened and creased can of beans. though Bev was nervous and experiencing a mild form of anxiety. she knew exactly what to do from an old james bond rerun she watched half soberly three years ago during her sophomore year in college.
given that tomatoes have no appendages she figured that the approximately 40 foot fall would only cause a minor splash and that her delicate skin would manage to slide gently beneath the surface of the water. in order that the crew would not notice her tomato like demeanor she put on a emergency snorkel mask and scuba tank that was stashed in the balloons basket.....hoping she could pass as a government agent of some powerful and elaborate country to possibly frighten her intruders into making irrational and potentially lucrative mistakes.
soon she found herself in mid air watching the horizon slowly stretch out to a more elongated width until finally the world of salt filled sea life came splashing initially to a haze of bubbles and indigo blue. at first Bev hoped to escape lazily underwater a few hundred feet bellow the surface. though once 200 feet bellow she noticed something questionably odd. at first it seemed that a ship the size of something enormous, maybe that of a small mountain, was navigating easily through the thickening haze of the Mediterranean deep. upon closer inspection she discovered tiny reflections of light emanating from within the seemingly solidified structure in question. these then began to separate piece by piece into individual self sustaining shapes tightly nestled together to resemble some kind of unified terrestrial formation. it then became clear. at last it is the lost city of the turtle.
while closer and still closer yet. millions of gracefully tuned and rhythmically aligned turtles swimming lazily through the semi transparent water came into view.
while seeming to be oblivious to the giant vessel and its long complicated strides. just then Bev felt a strange sensation from behind the oxygen tank strapped snuggly to her back.... before even allowed the slightest of struggles she felt herself encased within something elastic yet as solid as steel. in probability the shell of a turtle.
minutes later. thrust into the open water of blinding and in comprehensive light. a shadow passed over the vast rays glinting from a multitude of inseparable angles. a voice then pressed against the misty haze and echoed from every corner of little Bevs now fragile and overly reflective body....as if the shards of light were holding tiny questions that were meant solely just for her. though having no voice to answer. the voice held rhythm though was impossible to decipher. more similar to the feeling when one sleeps and dreams that they are waking to begin their daily routines.
with the weight of thousands upon thousands of words..... the light began to dim until completely absent from the once overly abundant white sun stroked sea.
soon images from thousands of memories began to unfold into the water before her. memories of her tomato plant mother and father. her two hundred and sixteen siblings that she knew entirely by name. the time she once skidded her knee when falling off a skateboard in seventh grade outside Pinehurst junior high. her first kiss with that yellow squash hooligan from 42nd street, Eddy Winslow. as if tumbling through a mist of remorse and nostalgic longing. the images faded and before her appeared a seemingly three dimensional and familiar shape. that of another roma tomato. with a delicate golden crown embossed with a very sophisticated floral arrangement the tomato spoke:"hey hie, the names Wilson. pleased to meet ya." Wilson had the draw of a Texan that would speak in the manner as if burdened by the having to lug about a dusty half paralyzed stiffened leg that wobbled anxiously from side to side which one may refer to as a gimp. (to be continued.....)
immediately a blazing sound of gun shots rang from the ships deck. Bev was curios at first then heavily alarmed for the gravity of the situation came rolling in at full force. her balloon was made of a light weight nylon fabric which could easily become punctured under the velocity as something as small and metallic as that of a bullet. soon enough the balloons envelope became distressed and mangled to form the shape of a discarded, crushed, flattened and creased can of beans. though Bev was nervous and experiencing a mild form of anxiety. she knew exactly what to do from an old james bond rerun she watched half soberly three years ago during her sophomore year in college.
given that tomatoes have no appendages she figured that the approximately 40 foot fall would only cause a minor splash and that her delicate skin would manage to slide gently beneath the surface of the water. in order that the crew would not notice her tomato like demeanor she put on a emergency snorkel mask and scuba tank that was stashed in the balloons basket.....hoping she could pass as a government agent of some powerful and elaborate country to possibly frighten her intruders into making irrational and potentially lucrative mistakes.
soon she found herself in mid air watching the horizon slowly stretch out to a more elongated width until finally the world of salt filled sea life came splashing initially to a haze of bubbles and indigo blue. at first Bev hoped to escape lazily underwater a few hundred feet bellow the surface. though once 200 feet bellow she noticed something questionably odd. at first it seemed that a ship the size of something enormous, maybe that of a small mountain, was navigating easily through the thickening haze of the Mediterranean deep. upon closer inspection she discovered tiny reflections of light emanating from within the seemingly solidified structure in question. these then began to separate piece by piece into individual self sustaining shapes tightly nestled together to resemble some kind of unified terrestrial formation. it then became clear. at last it is the lost city of the turtle.
while closer and still closer yet. millions of gracefully tuned and rhythmically aligned turtles swimming lazily through the semi transparent water came into view.
while seeming to be oblivious to the giant vessel and its long complicated strides. just then Bev felt a strange sensation from behind the oxygen tank strapped snuggly to her back.... before even allowed the slightest of struggles she felt herself encased within something elastic yet as solid as steel. in probability the shell of a turtle.
minutes later. thrust into the open water of blinding and in comprehensive light. a shadow passed over the vast rays glinting from a multitude of inseparable angles. a voice then pressed against the misty haze and echoed from every corner of little Bevs now fragile and overly reflective body....as if the shards of light were holding tiny questions that were meant solely just for her. though having no voice to answer. the voice held rhythm though was impossible to decipher. more similar to the feeling when one sleeps and dreams that they are waking to begin their daily routines.
with the weight of thousands upon thousands of words..... the light began to dim until completely absent from the once overly abundant white sun stroked sea.
soon images from thousands of memories began to unfold into the water before her. memories of her tomato plant mother and father. her two hundred and sixteen siblings that she knew entirely by name. the time she once skidded her knee when falling off a skateboard in seventh grade outside Pinehurst junior high. her first kiss with that yellow squash hooligan from 42nd street, Eddy Winslow. as if tumbling through a mist of remorse and nostalgic longing. the images faded and before her appeared a seemingly three dimensional and familiar shape. that of another roma tomato. with a delicate golden crown embossed with a very sophisticated floral arrangement the tomato spoke:"hey hie, the names Wilson. pleased to meet ya." Wilson had the draw of a Texan that would speak in the manner as if burdened by the having to lug about a dusty half paralyzed stiffened leg that wobbled anxiously from side to side which one may refer to as a gimp. (to be continued.....)
1 comment:
Brad, please email me! I don't have a good address for you. Got some letters for you...
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