Gravity

" What you want, said the friend, is an Unrest-cure.''
" An Unrest-cure? I've never heard of such a thing ! "
" You've heard of Rest-cures for people who've broken down under stress of too much worry and strenuous living; well, you're suffering from overmuch repose and placidity,
and you need the opposite kind of treatment. ''
Saki...

GRAVITY
By Brett A.Cabot

Gravity is an adventure story about The Delvwares and their grand children becoming the victims of, then learning to live with, zero gravity. After the local council's gravity maintainence program gets into trouble.

Pg. CHAPTER ONE.             MEET THE GRANDPARENTS.
Pg. CHAPTER TWO.            THE MACHINE... (AND IT'S MEN).
Pg. CHAPTER THREE.         THE PLOT THICKENS.
Pg. CHAPTER FOUR.           WHAT GOES UP... GOES UP.
Pg. CHAPTER FIVE.             MEANWHILE... BACK DOWN ON THE GROUND.
Pg. CHAPTER SIX.               UFO's... NOW IS THE TIME TO BELIEVE.
Pg. CHAPTER SEVEN.         BELIEVE... IF YOU DIDN'T YOU WILL NOW.
Pg. CHAPTER EIGHT.           DIAMONDS FLOWERS ? SHOELACES?
Pg. CHAPTER NINE.             A COLOSSAL COSMIC CO-INCIDENCE
                                                       (What, Why, Where and by Whom)
Pg. CHAPTER TEN.              READY, SET, GO.
Pg. CHAPTER ELEVEN.       PLASTIC PARADISE
Pg. CHAPTER TWELVE.      WHO'S STALKING WHOM?
Pg. CHAPTER THIRTEEN.    SURF'S UP

GRAVITY
By Brett A. Cabot

CHAPTER ONE. MEET THE GRANDPARENTS

It was a day like any other for Florence and Albert Delaware, their lives being fairly normal, well as normal as normal gets. Forty years together, forty years to establish routines and today like any other they were in the throes of those routines. So Florence and Albert were happy if not a little bored as they potted around their comfortable kitchen in their modest two-storied ageing terrace at 24 Whale Street, preparing breakfast.

They didn’t as a rule talk to each other in their pre breaky amblings. In fact the silence wasn’t usually broken until 10.30am when the midmorning mail fluttered it’s way through the slit in the door. Then the retiring Albert would dig out his magnifying glass, wander over well-worn linoleum, bend down bracing himself on the door handle and pick up the mail. Inspect it then announce to Florence what had arrived and to whom it was for. Florence in reply would ask Albert if he cared for tea which of course, he did.

And so the first words of the day were spoken. Out would come the tea and they’d both settle onto the settee to read the mail... Have a bit of a chat, mostly about the mail or weather observations, perhaps a reference to last nights television...

Florence would then clear the tea things away and they’d watch television and wait for lunch. Which was usually triggered by tummy rumblings emanating from underneath Albert’s over large knit jumper - which in turn would send Florence into a frenzy of lunch preparation.
So deeply etched into their psyche were the triggers in their routines, that quite often if there was no mid morning mail delivery they wouldn’t converse till lunch or later, let alone remember to have a cuppa tea. Or indeed turn the television on.

So there they sat, 8am, in silence munching respectively on toast and cornflakes with no chance of a chat till the 10.30 mail. If indeed it ever came. Then out of the blue, with a just audible swoosh a single off white card slipped through the letter slit in the front door, wafting to the floor face down. Albert looked up from his cornflakes, perplexed by this unexpected interruption to the breakfast routine. Glancing over his bifocals, he eyed the card lying on the carpet by the front door - his mind became, somewhat, alive.
Well, as alive as Albert’s mind could get at this time of day or any other for that matter.

Could it be something is waiting at the post office? ... No, too early. Albert thought. Or perhaps its a council announcement of some sort? Garbage pickup day? … Clothes collection!? … Work on the gas mains that sort of thing ...
"It’s too early for the mail!" Albert said, turning towards Florence.
In fact too early for anything, other than breakfast and routine, He thought. Not really realising he had spoken and routine had been broken.
Florence’s immediate responses on hearing Albert talk, was to ask him if he cared for a cuppa tea and plugged in the jug.

Albert’s curiosity grew into mobility. Easing himself out of the chair he made his way by the well-worn route to the door and picked up the card. Turning it over with his fingers, Albert thought he recognised the local council logo but was as blind as a bat with or with out his glasses and definitely couldn’t make out the finer print. Having forgotten, in all his excitement, where his magnifying glass was, he called out to Florence to come and read the card to him.

For the first time in an extremely long while Albert and Florence had started to talk to each other before breakfast had finished.
Though neither really noticed the significance in this. In fact neither would possibly never fully appreciate the full impact of the arrival of this little off white card would have on their lives. A card with a message to flutter the very fabric of their suburban security blankets...

Florence came out from the kitchen, took the card from Albert, picked up her glasses from a side draw in the lounge room cabinet then made her way to the settee opposite the television set. She was just about to seat herself down when a click from the kitchen distracted her. The jug had stopped boiling. Florence hesitated for a moment mid flight then opted to make tea first. Popping her glasses and the card into her, bosomy blouse, pocket. She straightened up and walked through into the kitchen.

All this time Albert stood and watched, waiting in anticipation of what was written on the card? ... Why would something arrive so early? ... Why had this event interrupted his otherwise predictable as clockwork morning? ... Now what’s she doing! ...?
"I’ll just fix the tea first dear" Florence called out to him from the kitchen.
"Why don’t you finish up your cornflakes in the mean time, the card can wait for tea surely ".
But Albert was too obsessed with what ever could be written on the card, too distracted from his routine to go back to breakfast. Instead he started to pace up and down the lounge room floor at a speed a little above his normal ambling gait. He was accompanied by tea making rhythms emanating from the kitchen, supplied by Florence.

Time ticked on...

Albert thought he had never known tea to take so long...
Finally Florence re appeared through the kitchen doorway, tray of tea and biscuits in hand, the card seductively peeping over the top of her blouse pocket. Albert couldn’t take his gaze from that rectangle of white.
Florence shuffled cups and saucers, spoons, sugar and so into position on the coffee table. Cosied the teapot turned it three times and tapped it twice then poured the tea.

Albert stopped pacing the floor and sat down next to Florence on the lounge, he was still visibly agitated, eyes glued to the pocketed card, temples pumping, building himself up in anticipation of what could be written upon it.
Florence slips the card from her pocket, puts on her glasses, and takes one quizzical look at it then turns it the right way up. She reads to herself...

"Come on" muttered Albert.
"How unusual!" Exclaimed Florence continuing to peruse the card.
"What?!" Blurted Albert, eager to know what it was all about.
"Well I’m not too sure what it all means but it seems they are going to turn off the gravity between two thirty and five this afternoon ". Florence answered, pausing as though waiting for a response... None came... Albert just stared blankly, grinding his teeth.
Not really understanding what she was reading Florence continues...

"It says we should take all appropriate measures to secure ourselves, the house, yard and contents, pets and small children and that we are under no circumstances to leave the house during the above stated hours.. ".

"I wonder what appropriate measures means?" Queried Albert.
Snapping out of his stoic trance he leaps to his feet and starts ranting, this card was really starting to bother him.
"And what do they mean, turn the bloody gravity off, they can’t do that! And whose they in the first place?"
Albert was up and away, searching madly through rooms, rummaging in draws and box’s for his magnifying glass. He needed badly to verify this card and its contents for himself.

In the background Florence continues...
"Well, yes they can dear, it says here at the bottom of the card that it’s for routine maintenance and that it is a essential procedure carried out by all responsible councils to secure an even advantage for all constituents, and that all concerned citizens are obliged… "...

"What do you mean even advantage" Albert called out from the bedroom. Cutting her off mid sentence. He continued...
"There’s no such bloody thing ". Thinking the whole thing to be totally intolerable and a damn inconvenience to boot.

"Still, don’t you think we should do what they say. Replied Florence.

"And what! Take appropriate means so we all get an even advantage"
Albert jested cynically, from a side room gesturing with one hand whilst frantically tossing things out of a cupboard with the other. One assumes still looking for his magnifying glass.
The half-demented Albert was off on some tangent, not seeming to be digesting things clearly it at all.

"I don’t know, maybe there’s a brochure about it we could find ".
Called Florence, hoping to defuse Albert’s mounting frustrations. He hadn’t even touched his tea, it would be cold by now. Thought Florence, feeling slightly confused.
She had felt slightly confused mainly because Florence only ever felt slightly about anything. Even in the most extraordinary of situations. It’s just one of those things routine brings.

Albert finally found his magnifying glass and came back into the lounge room panting heavily and muttering obscenities under his breath.
"Give me that thing! ". He demands, snatching the card from Florence then sitting down on the settee, magnifying glass in hand.
Albert had to continuously pull focus to be able to read the card. Which, to his mounting disbelief and blood pressure, was saying exactly what Florence had told him and still he found it hard to grasp the gravity of the situation. (Pun intended.)

Mean while Florence watched on, thinking Albert looked kind of funny the way his head bobbed back and forth like an irate pigeon in the mating season. Puffing up his chest then emitting little gasps of frustrated steam as he effected focus with his magnifying glass trying to read the card...

...Florence started to lose interest in the drama unfolding in front of her. It all hadn’t made much sense, in fact she wasn’t really sure what had started it all in the first place. Her memory being a bit dodgey these days. She decided to clean up the tea things and leave Albert to his mumblings.

Albert was actually losing a bit of steam, he was still reading and rereading the card but had quietened down considerably.
Florence disappeared into the kitchen to the jangle of the tea tray.
Albert put down the magnifying glass and placed the card leaning against a vase on the coffee table. Then picking up the magnifying glass again he slumped back into the settee, striking an almost comatose-like posture, magnifying glass in hand staring deeply in thought at the card…

Now you must remember deeply is a relative term when dealing with the likes of Albert Delaware.

Time ticked by...

Florence, wetex in hand popped her head out from the kitchen to check on Albert.
He was fast asleep. Which is generally what happens to him if he thinks too much about anything in particular for too long. His mouth was agape, air snuffling in and out, a trickle of dribble hanging from his chin, rose and fell in time with his breathing. The card was still on the coffee table in the exact same place by the vase. The clock on the wall read 10:15 am.
It was almost time for the mail, thought Florence.
"That’s if there was going to be any today". She muttered to no one inparticular as she fed the goldfish, fingering fish flake into a tank next to the television.

The fish went into their usual feeding frenzy. Florence looked on with her usual degree of enthusiasm and wondered if Albert would wake in time to resume his normal routine and check the mail.
As if in response Albert belched in his sleep, shaking the bit of dribble loose, whipping it onto his right hand which was still limply holding the magnifying glass.
Florence enjoyed the humour of the moment and giggled to herself.

It was coming up to 10.25am.

Florence acknowledged the clock and her previous lightheartedness slid to a feeling of slight concern. Delaware routine was what their lives depended on and here it was fragmenting into... into chaos, deteriorating at a speed unknown before.

Florence’s anxiety continued to grow....

There was a rattle at the front door. On hearing the noise she took a nervous glance over her shoulder and noted a small pile of three or so letters lying neatly on the carpet by the door. The mid morning mail had arrived and right on time too. Florence thought. Checking the clock, 10.30 on the dot. Albert didn’t stir.
Florence’s slight concern of five minutes ago had now metamorphosed into a feeling of slight confusion. Not quite knowing what to do next. Should she go and make tea?
Wait for Albert to talk again?

There was a cue missing and Florence had an almost uncontrollable urge to make tea. Which, after all was her part in their routine and in the right order in respect to the mail arriving...
What to do...? What to do...?
Wake Albert? She thought, looking his way. Go over to the front door and pick up the
mail, although this seemed inappropriate, slightly alien and once again quite beyond
their well established, deeply etched routine. Her desire to make tea was becoming
almost psychotic.
"Oh dear, what a strange day ". Florence exclaimed, to the goldfish as she hovered mid lounge room in a haze of confusion over the need to make a decision.
"Oh dear", she said again. Wishing to confirm her predicament and hide from the obvious conclusion, being that she really did need to decide what to do, also the goldfish seemed somehow to be listening and looked genuinely interested.

Instinct guided by ritual got the better of her. Florence decided to make tea. In her mind she thought, not again as her body took off towards the kitchen, knocking the coffee table en route, sending the off white card sliding from its perch by the vase to the floor, landing at the reclining Albert’s feet. They twitched. He was still asleep. But not for long...

CHAPTER TWO. THE MACHINE

A huge thud from something very large being dropped outside on the street shook the whole house. Waking with a start Albert slides from the settee onto the floor in one jarring movement. His foot kicking the card unnoticed underneath the settee and out of sight. He looks up at the agitated fish darting around in the still rippling water of the fish tank. The vase on the coffee table rocked back to equilibrium. Florence appears at the kitchen door looking slightly frantic, takes one wide eyed look at Albert then in synchronisation they both gawked towards the front door. Albert plies himself from the floor and makes his way towards the door. Noticing the mail, he bends down, inspects it then nonchalantly tosses it onto a side table. Taking out his keys he nervously unlocks the front door.
By this time Florence is faithfully by his side, wetex in hand. They both peered out sheepishly...

So to did everyone else in the street. Other couples just like Albert and Florence lined the doors of the houses on both sides of the Whale Street. All had a look of apprehension as they communally stared at the awesomely enormous mechanical device sitting in the middle of the road and a crane and a Mac truck driving off in the distance obscured by a mushrooming cloud of dust.
Thirty odd men in grey jump suits were running around the machine taking orders from a man in a blue jump suit. Who was obviously the commanding officer the way he barked out orders and strutted his stuff.

The neighbourhood population grew as residents came out and passers-by stopped to mingle and chat. Then before their eyes the machine too started to grow as extensions moved out and up, some flipping additional extensions out which in turn did the same again. A spectacular choreography of hydraulic arms, metal sections, men and unidentifiable machine parts.

An hour later a quarter of the street was taken up with something resembling a minimalists impression of a one hundred and fifty year history in railway engine design merged into one object, endowed with insect type antennae and gismos hanging off in every direction all over the place. It was topped off with what looked like an oversized inverted beach umbrella. It seemed near completion, though not knowing what finished looked like left this open to individual speculation.

The men in overalls had stopped working and were relaxing around the machine in small groups. At least two hundred people, aside from the residents had gathered to view what most assumed to be the anti gravity machine. Giving the street an over crowded carnival atmosphere. At least a dozen police had been called in to control the milling masses. Who had by now, all but obscured Albert and Florence’s view.

Albert decided he had had enough and went back indoors whilst Florence with her half dry wetex in hand bobbed and poked for fleeting glimpses of the main attraction. Albert noted this on his way in thinking she looked like a pigeon hassling for space in a Hyde Park flock. (Birds of a feather)
Albert turned on the television then made himself comfortable on the lounge, Oprah Winfrey’s intellectually riveting program pulses from the screen. Albert relaxes further into the sedative he loved and needed.
It was just past noon. The hum of the crowds outside was constant, the whining of
Oprah and her guests was constant and Albert drifted off to sleep which was consistent with his general zest for life.

It wasn’t just an age thing with Albert it was more that he had never really run on all four cylinders in the first place and tired easily. His mind was, well mostly there and at times even enthusiasm surfaced but never coupled with anything remotely resembling energy. Sleep suited his posture and rigid routine his brain.

None the less, unbeknownst to both Albert and Florence fate and the cosmos were about to deal them a hand of opportunity and adventure. The ultimate unrest cure.

Florence finally had lost any chance of a decent view so came inside. She was curious why anyone would want to build a train museum in the middle of Whale Street and was slightly concerned about the additional traffic it might cause. She then forgot what she was thinking about as a new thought surfaced. ‘It must be past lunch time ‘. She thought, passing his Royal Highness asleep at the telly.

Albert lay slouched on the settee oblivious to the rumblings emanating from his own vibrating gut.
Florence scooped up the mail and wandered through to the kitchen to prepare lunch.
In between peeling potatoes and slicing beans she shuffles through the mail.
One was obviously a bill another a mail orders something. She opted for the least official looking envelope first and peeled it open with the potato knife. It was from her daughter Allison.

Dear Mum and Dad,

We hope all is well on the home front. I just thought to drop you a quick line to remind you, not to say that you need reminding after our phone conversation last week but anyway I’m writing to remind you that its that time of year again, holiday time and as usual Mark and Amanda will be making their way to your place around about noon Thursday the 16th...

That’s nice, thought Florence. The kids coming to stay. She read on...

...Don’t worry about picking them up they have money for taxi and will make
their own way to your place. If you have any problems we are contactable at
the resort Hotel Kwantan Malaysia room 256, the phone number is Malaysia
106738. We’ll send you a post card otherwise catch up with you to pick up the
kids on the 26th.

All our love Allison and Peter.

Florence threw the letter onto the pile of potato peelings and slipped the empty envelope into her top pocket.
" Oh That’s lovely", she muttered to the saucepan, filling it with water. " Allison and Peter off on holidays, mmm ".
The sun was shining, lunch was cooking and all in all it was turning into quite a remarkable day. Thought Florence to herself, staring lazily out the window at the sun lit petunia patch in the backyard.
"Ahhh such bliss!" She exclaimed to her own reflection in the kitchen window.

Florence at times truly enjoyed her old age. She also had a capacity to block out all unwanted stimuli including the rumbling crowd noise from outside and the pathetic dramatics of the bold and the beautiful coming from the television in the lounge room. So there was nothing to interrupt this moment of sublime bliss enveloping her at the present. Not even the fact that today was Thursday the 16th, it had totally slipped her mind. Nor that it was just past 1pm and that her grandchildren were about to make an entrance. Hadn’t given it a second thought. Hadn’t remembered basically.

Albert slept on...

Outside in the Graviton, Captain Straten selects several buttons and barks into a microphone " Standby, five second test in 5, 4, 3, 2. He presses the test only button.
Inside, Albert asleep, floats a few feet into the air then back to the couch. Florence in the kitchen does the same but doesn’t sense the experience being too preoccupied with her own thoughts.

CHAPTER THREE. THE PLOT THICKENS

Albert dreamed of exotic climates surrounded by beautiful yet temperamental women. Temperamental because not even in his own dreams could Albert get it right. Anyway there he was in a potentially fantastic situation. Fully dressed in what seemed to be a pin stripped suite, on a beach, immaculate weather, women everywhere, beautiful gorgeous bikinied women- although none of them seemed interested in him no matter how hard he tried his best smile and most casual posturing. They seemed to be in a different world- their voices coming from a distance. Sometimes drifting out of synchronisation and always, always obsessed with some problem or another to do with money, men, weight or other women.

Albert was totally unaware his dream was being dictated by the twoing and froeing of soapy stars and their scriptwriters via his Sony trinitron. Still a dream was a dream and Albert was enjoying himself in a bazaar sort of a way. The drinks were good and on the house as far as he knew. At least the tall leggy blonde bringing a never-ending supply of them never asked for any money. She just ranted on about one trauma after another.
When she next arrived with his drink she shoved it at him, spilling half of it across his tuxedo- (somehow he was now wearing a tux), She was babbling on about... ‘ Never wanting to see him again ‘ then swung around with a exaggerated flourish, storming off in disgust. Still he knew she would be back. Suicidal next time maybe, but none the less he did have some control in his own dream, if only over the drink flow rate.

A ringing sound started to cut its way through Albert’s manufactured dream ambience. He made an effort to look around the beach for its source but eyed only palms and girls, sand and more girls. (It was kind of obsessive) then as the ringing got louder he swung himself off the beach chair to investigate further...

Crunch!!!

...Albert landed with a jarring thud, his chin sitting dog like on the coffee table the rest of him in a twisted pile draping from the settee. The television a few inches away blared in his ears as the doorbell died in the distance.

Florence announce " I’ll get it ", and made for the front door.

Albert unravelled his twisted legs, pulled himself upright and back onto the settee, then leaned over blearily and switched his dream machine off. Sitting back, rubbing his eyes. Chubby fists rotating back and forth in the meaty crevasses of both eye lids. Containing rolling eye balls, squishing here and there in their own sea of fluids and veins. He rubbed and rubbed. Washing away probably the best parts of his dreams.
After this little ceremony Albert felt much less fuzzy headed than normal and indeed refreshed, if not somewhat aroused. Certainly able to handle whoever had arrived at their door.

The sing song speech of welcomings filled the house as Florence ushered Mark, Amanda and luggage through the front door into the lounge room.
Albert thought he recognised the voices but couldn’t be sure.

"Look dear, it’s Mark and Amanda, they’ve come to visit " Florence announced.

Albert went into animated action the instant he realised who had arrived and leapt out of the settee, arms outstretched to embrace his grandchildren. Marks response was to shelter behind his sister and cringe, holding tightly to his luggage as though this senile old man was going to mug him.
Amanda had a better handle on the situation and side stepped to the left at the last moment leaving Mark vulnerable to the charging assault of his grandfather. Who, picked him up in one decrepit swoop and smacked a big wet bristly kiss on his cheek. Mark wasn’t impressed.
Amanda stood by with a suitable grin on her face which collapsed the moment she saw her grandfather release Mark and turn towards her.

In Amanda’s eyes Albert had a loving yet somewhat maniacal look about him which reminded her of something out of a late night B grade horror film. She was definitely not looking forward to the inevitable crusty old kiss and cuddle. It came- she squirmed a little but basically gave into this embrace of grand parental love.

"What an unexpected pleasure to see you both ". Said Albert. Releasing a relieved Amanda, stepping back to take them both in.
" Off on a trip or something by the looks of it ? ". Albert eyed their luggage then glances Florence’s way.
" Didn’t you talk with muu.. ". Attempted Amanda before Florence cut her off, saying to Albert.

" Well dear it seems to have slipped my mind, now that I come to think about it, um there was a letter this morning and well I’m not too sure but possibly a call last week from Allison.. ".

Florence still had the half-dry wetex in her hands, which she twisted eternally, in short tense bursts searching for a suitable explanation to the sudden arrival of the children.

"...and it’s been such an exciting day what with what ever it was that has been happening, happening.. ".
She had totally forgotten about the gravity service pending...
"And now that the weather seems to be turning out just fantastically..."

Albert turned his eyes to the ceiling in a gesture of hopelessness. The children were holding back giggles as Florence continued to babble.

"Any way dear it’s not that I’m particularly forgetful, it’s just that things build up at such a startling rate and I cant, frankly.. ". She pauses for no apparent reason then seems to get back on track mindwise. Looking lovingly at the children she continues.
"What’s the difference they’re here now anyway ".

"Yeah and for ten days!" Mark exclaimed.

Albert turned his eyes to the ceiling in a repeat of his previous gesture then smiled at the children. Florence happy that Albert was happy set off to the kitchen to prepare tea (yet again) and sandwiches thinking it would be nice to have it in the backyard for a change, it being such a beautiful day and all.

"Come on lets get this stuff stowed away in the spare room"
Said Albert to the children, putting on a dreadful sailors accent whilst picking up the closest bag in his right hand and trying to scruff marks hair with the other. Mark dodged and said something like ‘piss off you old fart’ under his breath then clambered up and over the arm of the settee, bag in hand, into the spare room.

Albert laughed and faked a left hand jab followed by a left hand uppercut which connected accidentally with his own jaw nearly knocking him off his feet- more by surprise than impact, surprise that he had managed to belt himself in the face. Amanda ran giggling, virtually wetting herself into the room after her brother.

Mark, who had also seen Albert belt himself was currently rolling on the floor in stitches, tears running down his face.
"Grandpa your such a hoon" he muttered in-between bursts of uncontrollable laughter bellowing from the two convulsing on the floor.

Albert licked his bloodied lip in good humour not really realising that they were taking the mickey out of him. He put it all down to youthful exuberance as he dragged the last bag to the entrance of the spare room.
"Catch you in the backyard for tea in five". Albert said feeling sort of groovy as he headed off with almost a spring in his step to the kitchen to help Florence which was quite unusual for him.
Amanda who was really hurting by now, regained some degree of control and spluttered.

"OK Grandad, coool". Carrying on the game. Mark had recovered somewhat, sitting on the bed with a Mickey Mouse grin which stretched from ear to ear, head nodding acknowledgement like a dog or in this case a rat on the rear sill of a 60’s car. He turned towards his sister, who by now was back to her normal gracious, self-contained self.

"Ten days with these two, how totally uncool, I can’t wait till your old enough to take care of the both of us at holiday time ".

He paused to think, then continued...

" What do you reckon was happening outside? What with all those people, you’d think there’d been a rock concert"
" Maybe it was a riot! Or possibly it was the left overs of a particularly big soccer crowd." Replied Amanda.
" Nah I don’t think so, not enough blood and brawling " stated Mark.

Digging into his bag looking for the last of the lollies, which he knew was there somewhere. He found it and popped it in his mouth, sucking with corporeal relish for Amanda’s benefit, knowing full well that it was the last one. Amanda looked on with a veil of discipline which didn’t suit her and certainly didn’t convince Mark who continued to suck the sweet, blissing out, just waiting for Amanda to crack. Which she did.

" Well I should think you’d offer me one ". Amanda queried.

Mark stuck out his tongue with the last lolly delicately perched temptingly on its tip, then whipped it, lolly and all back into his mouth. " Tough, it’s the last one" he said, his Mickey Mouse grin breaking from ear to ear yet again.
Mark loved to get one up on his sister, in fact one up on anyone was his preferred state. At least up to the point where the victim would attempt to hit him in the head out of frustration. Which is exactly what Amanda did as she swung round her bag connecting convincingly with Mark’s head. He gasped, spitting the lolly flying out of his mouth, across the carpet, out into the lounge room.
Amanda packed up in hysterics again, rolling hopelessly on the floor as Mark wandered off towards the kitchen totally defeated. So defeated he didn’t even bother to look for his half sucked lolly which had managed to land under the settee sticking itself to the little off white card which had found it’s way underneath the settee earlier on today.

The off white card which Florence and Albert had forgotten about and the children knew nothing about in the first place. The little card which would have explained to Mark the reason for the now diminishing crowds outside. The card which basically said that, love it or lump it, in twenty five minutes the gravity would be turned off for routine maintenance.
Albert and Florence’s memory’s could have done with some routine maintenance over the years but obviously never got any.

If you would like to read further please contact me at bcabot@chello.nl
Gewichtloos (Weightless) is an animated childrens adventure based on Gravity.

Cabot Connection