By Justin Mynheir “This is quite a pickle. Isn’t it, dear?” Dave leaned against the inside of the rusted cage. Down the cliffside, across an amphitheater of ancient stone ruins claimed by jungle growth, suspended over a bubbling pool of lava, Karen fidgeted in her rope bindings. “You think?!” “I think plenty, but even my
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The spaceship rattled again, the second violent vibration in as many minutes. Leaves fell from the trees above, and water from the large koi pond splashed my spacesuit. Vibrant colors danced and pulsed in the transparent dome of the garden’s ceiling, which offered a view of nearby space.
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The last wild guitar note faded from the hall. I let my leafy green shoulders relax, glad to be done with rehearsal for the day.
“Hey, nice work today, Tommo,” I said to my turnip drummer.
He clicked his drumsticks together and pointed them at me. “You too, buddy.”
“We’ve got this,” my guitarist Johnny Broccoli said. “We’re totally ready!”
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