Apples

Written for the Daily Flash Fiction Challenge with a word limit of 300.

The prompts: This story must contain the words: scissors, pipe and balloon

He had to have been drifting above at least 5000 feet. He wasn't having trouble breathing, but he was damned cold. He carefully took out his pipe and lighter and re-lit the good stuff. After a few quick puffs, he sat back in the sturdy lawn chair and took in the scenery.

It was dark. He hooted to himself, it was always dark! But now it was night dark, and the sky was brilliant with millions of glittering giggling stars, shining at him in amused reproof. He hooted again, it was damned beautiful way up here.

One of his balloons, the big balloon, squigged up against one of the smaller above him. He had needed more of those than he thought for his big ass, so he was lucky he had bought extras. Now they carried him along in his Wal-Mart aluminum and nylon chariot, racing though the chittering sky.

They had killed his family. He knew it, had screamed it, and no one had listened to him. Their hydroponic fruit distribution center, 5 stories of transparent walls and floors with mad scientists scurrying about, playing God without the proper schooling. Those apples were poison, and they killed his wife and two kids dead. Almost killed him too, but he'd always had a cast iron stomach, those bastards.

5000 feet ought to do the trick. He coughed out a skunky puff of the only real thing he'd miss and dropped his pipe twirling and whirling to the train set ground below. 250 pounds and a glass building, yes sir, 5000 feet should be enough.

He took out his scissors. "HOW DO YOU LIKE THESE APPLES!!?

~254 words