in a helicopter
an elderly rabbi
a roulette wheel
In his quest to experience all that life had to offer before he died, Rabbi Shamen found himself aboard a helicopter. Privately owned and, as far as he could tell, far removed from its prime the chassis creaked and moaned with the pains of age. Strangely comforting and recognisable, he almost felt empathy, and would have if not for the fact that each time his eyes trained towards the spinning propellers he couldn’t help but picture a roulette wheel. Its assorted numbers replaced with two simple choices. Life and death. He panicked and in an instant the courage that saw him accept the flight vanished. Escaping into the ether and torn to shreds before his very eyes.
“I need to get out” He struggled with his restraint. The more he struggled the more the ‘copter rocked. “I need to get out” panic plastered across his face from ear to ear, chin to brown.
“That’s okay grandpa, at least you tried”
Annabel, the elderly Rabbi’s granddaughter calmly called the ride to a halt and unclipped the security belt that held her grandfather in place.
A small crowd had formed around the children’s ride, initially angry parents and impatient children but eventually camera phones outnumbered each.
As the elderly man awkwardly climbed from the seat he received a heartfelt embrace, “Where to next grandpa?”
He thought for a moment before silently wading through the crowd, Annabel followed after, coming to an abrupt stop as the toilet door shut in her face.
“Annabel?” called a voice from beyond the door,
“Can you smell cookies?”
MSG TO: Mum
TEXT: Grandad as shit imself...Ur turn.
© Copyright 2012 RDerbyshire (UN: cobsession at Writing.Com).
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