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Almost peaceful. You look down past your boots at the water below, and you want to stay up here in the air where it’s been so nice and safe. The shimmering waves reach for you, the blinding shards of sun dance past your outstretched hands, and you see them. Dark forms lazily arcing through the water, just beneath the surface. And the patrol boats. About five, maybe six miles away, arcing through the water toward you. You reach for the little radio clipped to your harness, and are reassured to feel that it is still strapped snugly there. How much longer? How long until I hit? About 2,000 feet – or so it seems – make that 25 feet per second in this dense air. What’s that, 80 seconds, give or take? I wonder how warm it is? I wonder if it’s as warm as my blood? ______________________________________ You’re sinking, salt water runs up your nose and you remember the tank at Whitby Island, the ditch drills – slamming into the water and going inverted in a heartbeat – what was it they said,. " Just being nestled here between her tits was already more than enough payment for my summer. She grabbed my hand, "Let's go back and see Jimmy, I know he'll be glad you here." We walked into Uncle Jim's room and I was shocked at how he looked. It was if he was in some mid-evil torture device with ropes and pulleys supported by weights. I knew he must be full of pain medication by the look on his face. His nurse was there, an old bat that looked mean and nasty. My aunt smiled broadly at her husband, "Look Jimmy, Johnny is here to take your place while you're laid up." She put her arms around me and gave me a squeeze, her boobs pressing into my back. The next morning I got up early, ready to get on the roof and finish my uncle's repair job. While I was sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal Aunt Heather came in wearing a string bikini. She really was too chubby to be wearing such a skimpy bathing suit but all I saw was how much of her body was exposed to my eyes..
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