Falling. I’m falling. This might take a while. Even if I were falling at the speed of light, it would take me eight minutes to land. Actually, I should say crash. And die. That’s the more likely scenario.
Everything’s very serene up here. Empty spaces, twinkling stars. The stars seem awfully bright. But that might also be the lack of oxygen. I hadn’t thought about that when I came out here. In hindsight, getting an oxygen tank would’ve been smart. But so would have a lot of other things.
Like not eating a messy peanut butter and jelly sandwich with my wings on. I know I definitely got sticky condiments in between the feathers. Honestly, that would have eventually done me in even without the sun.
Not getting enough sleep last night wasn’t very smart either. It’s hard to steer your flight when you’re running on three hours of sleep. It’s also hard to steer when you don’t actually know how to fly. Man, I should have read that instruction manual. I told my father that no one reads the manuals. But I guess there’s a reason why they exist. But do they really need to be rewritten in ten different languages? You’re just wasting paper by that point. I think people have enough worldly knowledge today to know at least one other language. And if not, they should.
Since I’m dying, I might as well confess to a few things. One time I didn’t feed my fish for a week. I’m sorry for that. Though being sorry is a little ineffective now. Because the fish are kind of dead. Well, not kind of dead. They’re really dead. I blamed the dog. My father believed me. We don’t have a dog.
What else? I copied a friend’s arithmetic test last month. It’s not my fault I didn’t know how many heads the Hydra would have if it started with three heads, Hercules cut off two, then cut one, cut four, and finally cut three. They don’t pay me to learn math. I mean, they don’t pay me at all, but they should. Kids would be more effective and efficient learners if they got paid. It’s the truth. Look it up.
Well there goes Mars. Why is it called Mars anyway? Apollo would be a better name. Why do the Romans get everything named after them? It’s not like they’re any better than us Greeks. Are they? What makes some people better than others? Why do we fight?
I’m entering the atmosphere now. I wonder when my father will realize I ruined his wings. Knowing him, he’ll be more upset that his wonderful invention is broken than the fact that his son is broken. I hope that’s not true. But it probably is.
You might think I’m overly pessimistic. But you must remember that I’m currently falling to my death. People say your life flashes before your eyes in the instant before you die. Well, I’ve technically been dying for 7 minutes now. My life’s not so much flashing as it is casually strolling. I’m not even that old! I don’t have that much life to go through. Boy, is this taking a while or what?
Do you know the other misconception about death? That you go toward a bright light as you die? That’s a lie, too. See, I was flying fine until I came to a bright light. From that moment on, everything has been getting progressively darker. That might be because I stared at the sun too long. Or it could be because the anecdotes from people with near death experiences are complete bogus. One of those.
Wait, everything is getting brighter now. Dark again. Bright. Brighter. Dark. Oh wait, that’s because I blinked.
Things are warming back up. Heating up. Burning. Ow! Man, that’s hot! I’m on fire. I’m on fire? Fire! I need to put that out! Maybe my wings can smother it. No, my wings are already gone from the sun. Oh man, oh man. What can I do? I’m going to die! I’m too young to die! Goodbye, father. Sorry about your wings. Goodbye, fish. Sorry about the food. Or lack of it. Goodbye, world. Sorry. Wait, why am I apologizing? What did you ever do for me? I take back my apology. There. Now I can di—