The Remarkably Unbelievable Adventures Of
Kurt Camron
and his so called mate Henry

episode two -  the flying blancmange from alpha centauri

 Fact - Heroes never die.

Not through lack of opportunity, oh no. Not because they are immortal either. Or super human.

No, no. They never die because, quite frankly, their no good at it. If you go up to any hero and kill him he’ll stagger around the place for hours on end, striking heroic poses and bleeding profusely while voicing some momentous ground breaking spiel that he claims will have a profound effect on humanity.

Then he’ll say, how was that lovey, and break for lunch.

“I THINK WERE DONE FOR”, yelled Kurt as he and Henry hurtled towards the ground. He didn’t know why he’d said it. It was pretty obvious that they were about to experience more than a little discomfort. After all they were only seconds from being reduced to  Homo Sapien puree.

“YOUR KIDDING”, shouted Henry in a sarcastically high pitched squeal that nearly burst Kurt’s right ear drum. “AND I THOUGHT YOU WERE IN COMPLETE CONTROL OF THE SITUATION, SILLY ME!!”

“THE WAY I SEE IT THERE’S ONLY ONE THING THAT COULD POSSIBLY SAVE US NOW.”

“AND WHAT’S THAT?”

“WELL, IT’S...”

“YES, SPIT IT OUT, WE AIN’T GOT ALL DAY.” Which wasn’t quite true. What should have been a two second fall had already taken them twenty. They surely should have been history by now. Something was definitely afoot.

“PROMISE YOU WON’T LAUGH?”

“NO, OF COURSE I WON’T”, Henry lied.

“WELL PROMISE THEN.”

Henry crossed his fingers, “OH FOR GODS SAKE, I PROMISE.”

“THE ONLY THING THAT COULD SAVE US NOW...”

“YES, YES?” They should have been dead, buried and reincarnated by now.

“IS IF WE ARE KIDNAPPED BY A FLYING BLANCMANGE!!”

Henry would have laughed, and what a belly aching laugh it would have been. But he wasn’t given the chance. Probably something to do with the fact that at the moment, when himself and Kurt were just millimeters from death,  a large wobbly blancmange type object sped down from out of the heavens, engulfed them and swiftly disappeared.

Distantly, Kurt’s voice was herd to echo the words, “One just like this.”

It was Tuesday. It didn’t feel like a Tuesday though. Tuesdays don’t normally tend to feel like Tuesdays when you’ve been cooped up inside a flying blancmange for twenty four hours.

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