The Old Man and the Rocketship

Juvinial Judgments

Ping! A rock resounded off the silver surface which shown in the now high noon sun. It was the next day, and two boys were doing what boys always do when confronted with a large, hollow, metal object.

"It looks more Flash Gordanish than Star Warish" Pong!

"Flash who?" Ping!

"Flash Gordon; my dad's got some hard-back comics about him, came out in the thirties." Ping!

"Oh, Wasn't there a movie about him done back in the eighties? Birdmen and stuff?"

BONG! The large rock ricocheted off, leaving a scrape near the silver bolted hatch.

"Yeah, that's the one." Ping!

"Weird, You're right though, this looks like it came more from that movie than Star Wars." Ping-Pang!

"Hey, good one! I wonder what it's doing out here?" Pong!

"Dad says it's been here for as long as he can remember. Old Jed Starker built it after he came home from serving in the Navy during World War II."

"Really? Did anyone notice?"

"Heck yeah! People used to stop and get their pictures taken in front of it. It's still listed as a 'point of interest' down in the Chamber of Commerce. But you don't see so much of that now; '''cause it's so old!" Pong!

The two boys rested their arms. Behind them, their bikes lay in discarded piles, waiting, while their owners looked up at the rocket ship poised, as it had been for years, for launch.

As "old" as it looked, there could be no doubt that this was a rocket ship. Not a "spacecraft" or a "starship" or a "celestial schooner" or anything like that. It was a rocket ship, sleek and silvery with three red stabilizing fins jutting out its end... Strictly speaking, it did not look old at all, just old-fashioned. Except for the nicks the boys had placed there with their rocks, the ship's surface was a spotless silver with only its nose painted a fiery red. The nose itself ended in a needle-sharp cone behind which could be seen a viewing portal. And at its bottom was the unmistakable circular opening for a rocket engine. The authentic, indisputable rocket ship rested on its ramp pointing away from the Starker Farm--home of Crazy Jed Starker.

"Happy Halloween Boys." With a cry, the two spun about to find a tall gangling figure in overalls standing between them and their bikes, no escape there.

"M-M-Mr. Starker! "

"Farmers don't always spend their whole day in the fields boys; there's this thing called 'lunch'."

"We...we were just looking."

"I've never heard 'looking' go 'bong!' before. Let's just have a look." The boys trembled as the old man shuffled over and looked over the hull of the ship. He quickly found the scrapes near the hatch and made a clicking sound in his withered throat. Turning back to the two young offenders, he set his jaw firmly. "Seems to me we have two options: either you help me repaint this and clear the weeds near the front porch for my wife as further restitution, or I call your parents. And I know your dad well Billy Stetson." The boy, whose dad had told him of the rocket ship, blanched.

"We'll repaint it."

"Go and pick the weeds first. I'm going to call your folks to say where you are, but I'll just say you're doing some odd jobs for me. Come on." Heading back towards the house, the one boy murmured to his friend.

"Great, Mom'll never believe that I'm just helping. I'm still gonna get it."

The afternoon passed. Eddy directed the weed picking and Jed, after an early supper, worked with the boys with the repainting. The ship's launch pad was lowered so it lay on its side, the entry hatch now easily in reach.