Royal Australian Air Force One

I was deliberately trying to write badly for the Crimes Against Flash Fiction, so be a little forgiving with this in places. If you've seen AIr Force One, you ain't seen nothing yet.

Royal Australian Air Force One. 

         The Prime Minister boarded his rather small plane, Royal Australian Air Force One ( a re-fitted 1972 P3-Orion), along with his loyal staff of three, his wife and baby, four foreign press reporters, a couple of air force cabin crew and the three flying crew. They were flying to the nation's capital, Canberra, from the nation's playground for the rich and famous, Wagga Wagga.

         With the flying crew secured in the cockpit, the plane was secured and the Orion sprinted down runway 69. The propellers spun harder until the plane took off like a silvery bird of paradise, (the national symbol for Papua), from the slick, black, wet, grainy tarmac which had so recently secured the plane to the ground.
As the plane soared like an eagle, the drama unfolded in the rear section.

         As the cabin crew took the cling film off the Vegemite sandwiches and gave the PM a cup of tea, the four foreign press reporters leapt to their feet. They took the cover from their camera tripod to reveal a dark, long, thin, machine gun - a thing of beauty in its own way, but also a thing of violent death. The four 'reporters' brandished the gun and yelled incoherently. The air force crew cowered in terror beneath the seats, as did the three staff. Only the PM stood firm, shielding his wife and child.

         "What is it you want?" The PM demanded with a sneer of contempt for those who utilised such means for an end.

         The foreigner with the gun pointed it at the PM. The other three foreigners stood looking angry and fundamentalistic. They had only been able to afford one gun.
         "We are the leaders of the Vengeance In Papua Extremism Rebellion Sundering Those Reactionaries Internally Colluding with Enemies."

         "That doesn't make sense and your acronym sucks," the PM said, knowing his intelligence could wound these people just as surely as any gun.

         "You have to spell colluding with a K!" The unshaven leader snarled through broken teeth, speaking with a lisp and a strangely British accent.

         "What are your demands?" The PM asked bravely. He had been a highly-decorated SAS assassin and explosives expert before he became a politician. He laughed at fear. He scorned those who tried to use violence by resorting to using a gun to commit such acts of violence. Did they not know martial arts? It seemed strange to the PM, who knew that if the good guy was a martial arts expert then all the bad guys would be, too. And the Australian PM considered himself a good guy.

         "We demand better access to weapons for a start. This was the only one we could get! And we want this plane to take us to Papua!"

         "Mate," the PM smiled. "We're lucky to make it back from Wagga in this thing."

         "We don't care. We're starting a jihad in Papua as part of VIPER STRIKE's attack on those that won't allow us to kill people willy-nilly for no reason except they don't look like us. It's a.. a fatwilly! It's time to take it on back to the white capitalist dogs that work for the Man."

         "A jihad? So you are a Muslim extremist terrorist organisation then?" The PM's ears pricked up like a Doberman's hearing the sound of a can of Chump being opened.

         The leader conferred with his men. "Muslim? Is that a place near Fly River?"

         "You scurrilous scoundrels," the PM snarled. "You're just reciting rhetoric you picked up from the telly!"

         "Doesn't matter where we got it from! You're our hostage. All of the free world will be watching this; the very fate of democracy and your pig-dog capitalist Western society is in your hands, Australian Prime Minister! If we don't go to Papua right now we shall kill your wife and child!"

         The PM's wife and child, hiding behind the PM, cried out in fear. A single tear rolled down the PM's wife's face, but she bravely held on to her baby and supported her husband  She would be his rock.

         "That's it," the PM said, ripping open his shirt and exposing his broad, heaving, pale chest, heavily criss-crossed with the battle scars received from leading commando campaigns the world over and protecting the interests of Australia and the grateful Western nations. "It's show time!"

         With years of finely honed skills and training in some of the more obscure but deadly marital arts passed down in whispers through the generations in various Asian countries too numerous to mention, such as China and Japan, the PM gave a mighty roar and leaped on his foes. The first blow snapped the machine gun clean in two, sending the pieces flying through the air. The roundhouse kick took out three of the foreigners who had not spoken, so they were killed with one blow. Only the foreigner who had spoken remained standing, alone now amongst the bodies of his dead comrades.

         The PM pummelled this man into a bloody pulp but still he stood, trying to swing a connecting punch at the lithe, sinewy but still robust PM. One of the foreigner's blows grazed the PM, knocking his glasses slightly askew, messing his hair slightly over his forehead, and drawing a slight dribble of blood from the corner of his mouth. It only served to make the PM more angry.

         The PM grabbed the foreigner by the collar and dragged him to the rear door of the plane, opening the rear door of the plane and standing the man in the open doorway.

         "Get off my plane!" The PM yelled and punched the dirty foreigner in the face. The man fell from the door but due to the unpredictable air currents of that altitude he was caught in an updraft and was looped around through the air and into the spinning propeller in front of the door.

         "Reporters! Always looking for a new spin on things!" The PM grinned at his quip and closed the back door. Straightening his hair and tie he held out his arms and hugged his wife and baby to his breast. Then his three staff and the two air crew.

         "I'm so glad you're safe," the PM's wife said. "Where would our country be without you?"

         The announcement came over the speakers that Royal Australian Air Force One was preparing to land at Canberra. The PM laughed and ruffled the hair on his son's head, winking at the cabin crew. "Let's buckle in, everyone. Re-wrap those Vegemite sandwiches, we'll have those in the Lodge this arvo. That's a parliamentary priviledge I think we deserve."





habis









Now if you think that's stupid... what do you think the rest of the world watching the real movie thought?