'Flight' - Hemingway Parody
Short Story Parody
“Flight”
It was eight in the morning when the man woke up next to the woman he met. The skies had been clear the night before. Upon landing the man had seen the moon shining brightly, clouds encroaching from the west eventually completely blocking the moon’s light from shining into the terminal where the two met.
They were both awake now, listening to the rain beat heavily on the sun baked roof, its strikes synchronized with the rhythm of their light breathing.
“That’s really something, isn’t it?” the man says, turning away from her and towards the window.
“It really is… It’s been a while ‘fore it rained here, I’ll tell ya.”
“It sure has… six years now.”
“What ya’ say? The rain?” says the woman, turning to face the window too, admiring the rain.
“No… I mean the sun. I can’t remember the last time it rained. I don’t think it ever has.”
“It rained before silly. Don’t know where you been livin’ but it’s rained before.”
“Never like this.”
He quickly rises from the bed. The keys and change in his pockets rattling among the thunder as he put his pants on.
“Where you goin’?”
“I have to go. My first flight is in a couple of hours. Going to Denver. Home to Boston from there.”
As his shirt is lifted from the floor and thrown around his body, the man realizes his captain’s pin is not on it.
“Have you seen my pin?” he asks.
“No. I saw it the last night but not this mornin’.”
He searches his pant pockets but only finds his wedding band. The thunder crackles loudly and they both turn to face the window.
“Ya’ll can’t go in this weather though can ya?”
“I can. Planes fly in the rain. I’ll take the bus to the airport, it’s just down the street.”
“But you’re gonna get your shoes all muddy from all this rain. You can’t walk to the bus, let me give ya’ a ride okay?”
“I’ll walk to the bus station.”
“Let me at least walk with ya’.”
The thunder crackles and the rain gets louder on the roof. A car outside drives by the house, its wheels plowing through the water.
“It hasn’t rained in a while ya’ know?”
“I know. Six years. First time it’s rained.”
“Please get dressed, I need to go soon.”
“Ya’ ain’t having breakfast with me?”
“No, I need to go.”
“Come on. Jus’ something real fast.” The woman says, getting up and putting on her fine blouse and skirt, the same ones she had worn the night before.
“No, please, I need to go.”
The rain was as strong as ever, the thunder louder and closer than before. As the two walk out of the old and dim house, a strong wind comes in from the west, blowing the rain into their faces despite their umbrellas.
“We betta’ run! Come on!”
Approaching the bus station, the man slows down and walks to get under the roof. The woman was already there looking up to take in the week’s weather report, she having gone much faster than he did. When the man arrives, she turns to him.
“I told ya’ your shoes would get muddy! I told ya’! Look here. Those are ruined, that mud ain’t comin’ off no time soon. I told ya’. Didn’t you know they gonna get muddy?”
“I suppose I did.”
“Oh lookie here! Looks like ya’ won’t have to worry ‘bout not seeing the sun too much no more. Weather man says it’s gonna’ rain all week!”
“Longer.”
“Ha! How ya’ know that?”
“It’s going to rain until my shoes get clean.”
“Sorry honey, but those shoes are never getting’ clean.”
“I know.”
“It’s okay though, ya know, you goin’ now anyways, not gonna’ be rainin’ where you goin’.”
“It will be.”
“No it won’t. What are the chances that it would?”
“The systems moving east. It will be in Denver by the time I land. In Boston when I get home. I don’t think this rain’s ever going to stop.” The man turns around away from the weather report and looks ahead into the terminal, his bus was arriving.
“Flight”
It was eight in the morning when the man woke up next to the woman he met. The skies had been clear the night before. Upon landing the man had seen the moon shining brightly, clouds encroaching from the west eventually completely blocking the moon’s light from shining into the terminal where the two met.
They were both awake now, listening to the rain beat heavily on the sun baked roof, its strikes synchronized with the rhythm of their light breathing.
“That’s really something, isn’t it?” the man says, turning away from her and towards the window.
“It really is… It’s been a while ‘fore it rained here, I’ll tell ya.”
“It sure has… six years now.”
“What ya’ say? The rain?” says the woman, turning to face the window too, admiring the rain.
“No… I mean the sun. I can’t remember the last time it rained. I don’t think it ever has.”
“It rained before silly. Don’t know where you been livin’ but it’s rained before.”
“Never like this.”
He quickly rises from the bed. The keys and change in his pockets rattling among the thunder as he put his pants on.
“Where you goin’?”
“I have to go. My first flight is in a couple of hours. Going to Denver. Home to Boston from there.”
As his shirt is lifted from the floor and thrown around his body, the man realizes his captain’s pin is not on it.
“Have you seen my pin?” he asks.
“No. I saw it the last night but not this mornin’.”
He searches his pant pockets but only finds his wedding band. The thunder crackles loudly and they both turn to face the window.
“Ya’ll can’t go in this weather though can ya?”
“I can. Planes fly in the rain. I’ll take the bus to the airport, it’s just down the street.”
“But you’re gonna get your shoes all muddy from all this rain. You can’t walk to the bus, let me give ya’ a ride okay?”
“I’ll walk to the bus station.”
“Let me at least walk with ya’.”
The thunder crackles and the rain gets louder on the roof. A car outside drives by the house, its wheels plowing through the water.
“It hasn’t rained in a while ya’ know?”
“I know. Six years. First time it’s rained.”
“Please get dressed, I need to go soon.”
“Ya’ ain’t having breakfast with me?”
“No, I need to go.”
“Come on. Jus’ something real fast.” The woman says, getting up and putting on her fine blouse and skirt, the same ones she had worn the night before.
“No, please, I need to go.”
The rain was as strong as ever, the thunder louder and closer than before. As the two walk out of the old and dim house, a strong wind comes in from the west, blowing the rain into their faces despite their umbrellas.
“We betta’ run! Come on!”
Approaching the bus station, the man slows down and walks to get under the roof. The woman was already there looking up to take in the week’s weather report, she having gone much faster than he did. When the man arrives, she turns to him.
“I told ya’ your shoes would get muddy! I told ya’! Look here. Those are ruined, that mud ain’t comin’ off no time soon. I told ya’. Didn’t you know they gonna get muddy?”
“I suppose I did.”
“Oh lookie here! Looks like ya’ won’t have to worry ‘bout not seeing the sun too much no more. Weather man says it’s gonna’ rain all week!”
“Longer.”
“Ha! How ya’ know that?”
“It’s going to rain until my shoes get clean.”
“Sorry honey, but those shoes are never getting’ clean.”
“I know.”
“It’s okay though, ya know, you goin’ now anyways, not gonna’ be rainin’ where you goin’.”
“It will be.”
“No it won’t. What are the chances that it would?”
“The systems moving east. It will be in Denver by the time I land. In Boston when I get home. I don’t think this rain’s ever going to stop.” The man turns around away from the weather report and looks ahead into the terminal, his bus was arriving.
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