Flight Club №33 — garstique

Squeeeeeaaaak.

As the branch bows down even lower, it sounds like a door that is in desperate need of a few drops of oil. Did the tree just do that on its own?

Whooooooosh. Rattlerattlerattle. Cloink. Ffffffffft. Whoosh.

What the focaccia was that? And what’s that smell?

Those are the last two somewhat straight thoughts lurching through the center of your forehead, right after that rascal jackknifed out of his cherry tree, engulfing you in the fumes of his spray can as he tags your way too clean denim vest and vanishes just as quickly as he appeared.

Now you’re feeling a bit wonky and quite flimsy. But there’s no need for alarm. Indulge in the air underneath your feet, enjoy your freshly augmented swagger – and look! – the rascal came back and you’re pretty sure it’s that notorious garstique from the east side of town. Your vision may still be a bit blurry, but he is definitely poppin’ a tape into his boombox and by pressing play delivering a sonic cushion for you to drop out in.

What an adventure!
Next time you’ll surely be careful in the vicinity of a cherry tree.