Today's prompt features a hero that we all deserve and is totally made up.
From the sky, a whinny from an unsatisfied wood chipper.
Dropping to the ground, a spectacle, flailing man,
chartreuse cape, Bright yellow, form fitting, jumpsuit. Icarus in gaudy linens. The robin dropped
too soon from the nest. A penny from the skyscraper that kisses
clouds. The missile that knows its time has come to a close.
This man, yelling for dear life, dropping from a point unknown
has forgotten his wings, again. Not for the first time.
Hoping for the bailout. The trees are growing larger. The ground's features
more precise. His shouts more desperate. His cape, still chartreuse. The observers,
mostly hungry for a spectacle, something new, are licking their lips. Turning the phone towards
the inevitable meeting point between ground and our hero.
Our hero. No stranger to desperation. Now sobbing, pleading with some invisible ally. Shouldn't this already be over? Falling for what seems like hours. Time does not flow ordinarily when this affront to fashion descends from a point unclear to the firmament.
Accepting his fate, he stretches his arms, shouts some attempt at a catchphrase and closes his eyes.
Landing with a thunderclap thud that echoes like a dull roar from a bored jungle cat who has just woken up from an uninspired nap. The ground projects a sad mushroom cloud of unimpressive dirt. Quick to dissipate.
"I'm OK." Comes a shout. The mixture of triumph and a sly grin.
He does this every time. When will we learn?
Sneaky buggers, those super-heroes, fond of their practical jokes! I love this.
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