lightning strike

2022-09-30

I was a fighter pilot in some kind of war. I dropped bombs on railroad stations and other targets. And when the enemy mobilized a huge tank to come attack our village, I shot missiles at it until it stopped.

Things were going really good! As far as death and destruction go.

Then one day, I was walking around inside our base, and decided it was high time to go blow some things up. So I walked toward the gate that leads to the air field, and was stopped by a guard.

“No going outside,” they said.

“I’m not a civilian. I’m in the army,” I explained.

They doubled down and refused to let me through.

“I want to go fly my plane and blow stuff up. I’ve blown up dozens of enemy targets.”

“It’s not the right time of day to fly planes.”

I was disgusted and outraged. What is this, a game? We can only fly at certain times? Like this is some kind of a board game with rules which we politely agree to play by.

Forget that. I decided to go around their backs and go out anyway, because I can fly, and I can control the weather. I tell my radio guy and he’s like, hell yeah, and he runs into the communications trailer and whispers in my ear what my targets should be.

I change into my night goblin suit, which is all black with a hood that covers my head. It has bright lime green eyes and a grin with pointy teeth, and some little wings that are attached all the way from my elbow to my hip.

So I get a good running start and jump into the air and gather up a bunch of thunderclouds and my radio guy tells me where to go, and I start blasting things with lightning. Blow up some railroad, and another tank. And a house where the enemy generals were planning their their attack. And a few other targets, but they’re all starting to look like regular houses, and I start to worry. I don’t want to be hurting people, after all. Just infrastructure and maybe some soldiers and officers.