Flash Fiction: Aerial Delivery

by Chris McGinty

His car was flying. At first he couldn’t really think anything of it. His stomach lurched, and after feeling like he might pass out, he thought he might vomit. Then for a brief, wild second, he wondered if he had hit some sort of dirt ramp the way that them Duke boys might have done back in that TV show. He almost thought for a moment that he’d hear Waylon Jennings’s voice come over and say something witty like, “Well, I guess this pizza ain’t getting delivered without a parachute.” And that’s when he realized he wasn’t just jumping.

The car was going higher and higher in the air. When, and if, it decided to come down, it was going to be the end of him. You just don’t fall from this high up in the air without dying. Then he realized it might actually go the other way. He might just not come down. He may go higher and higher, and the only thing that might save him from feeling a horrible burning death from the atmosphere was if he was lucky to suffocate before that happened. And there was always the third option that the car would just stay at this height and keep flying, never stopping. If that happened he would have to be saved by the Air Force, provided they didn’t shoot him down before that happened. Either way, he was certain he was dead.

Then the car seemed to change course, as though it just needed to get up to a certain altitude and then get turned around to go to some destination. Looking at his GPS, he noticed that he was actually going in the direction of the delivery. It was a complete surprise to him when, as he got closer to the destination, the car began a slow and steady descent culminating in a perfect three point landing (or would it be four point because he had four tires?) right in front of the house.

He delivered the pizza, got a decent tip, got back in the car (reluctantly), and started driving back to the store. For the rest of his career delivering, he always expected his car to fly at least one more time, but it never happened.

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