Space Ball

Belgium’s King Phillippe cried.
On a visit to India, he and Queen
Mathilde were taught how to play
cricket.  Yet when the King smacked
the ball with the bat, it arced up eerily,
gained momentum abruptly, and soared
away into space. And thus Phillippe wept. 

That batted ball, ignoring all of Newtonian
physics, disregarding axiom of, for every
action there is an equal and opposite
reaction, sped through troposphere
and stratosphere, losing energy
yet keeping enough velocity
to achieve orbit.  There it
circled the Earth as a
satellite, a wee ball. 

Meanwhile, Queen Mathilde
consoled King Phillipe and dried
his tears.  They both had slumped in
uncomfortable fear, and both picked their
jaws up from the cricket field on which they
stood.  The queen also felt Phillipe’s biceps, but
quickly relented, red faced, among the increasing
murmuring of the masses, most of whom were
pointing skyward. 

That cricket ball maintained an orbit of roughly
seventeen thousand miles per hour, free-falling
around the planet as all satellites do, following
the Earth’s curvature.  It passed a number of
military and communication satellites, and
brushed pea-sized grains of ancient rock
left over from the formation of the sun
and solar system.  But it suffered not. 

Down on Earth, after much ado with Indian
officials and Indian media, the King and
Queen returned to Belgium, upper lips
stiff.  News of their unorthodox visit
spread.  Unbeknownst to all, the ball
became lodged in an exhaust port
of the International Space Station.

40 Lines 
Writer's Cramp
11-11-17