Twenty Six Hill Rise was the home of the Carver Space Agency. Its founder, Thomas Carver, was making the final preparations for the maiden voyage of Green Bin One. The final parts were due in the post at any time. Thomas waited nervously on the bottom step of the stairs, with his eyes fixed on the letter box.
Carver Space Agency was only established two weeks ago. Thomas overheard his mum tell his dad that she was worried about losing the baby. He had dreamt of having a baby brother for years and he was going to do everything in his power to save him. His mission? Secure alien technology that prevented the misplacement of babies.
The clatter of the letter box alerted the dog of a security breach. Thomas only had a few seconds to secure the mail before Frodo, the black Labrador, took the mail into custody.
“Tommy quick, he’s coming,” shouted Thomas’ mother.
Thomas ran to the door, slipping with every step as his socks skated on the laminate flooring. Danger approached galumphing behind. Thomas’ ninja skills were finely-tuned and he managed to scoop the mail up at the same time that Frodo slid on his bottom past him into the door.
“It’s all junk, mum,” Thomas shouted.
“Okay babe, thank you,” his mum shouted back.
Thomas ran back up to mission control leaving behind a somewhat confused Labrador chewing his own foot.
One last piece of sellotape and the ship was complete. Thomas put Lawrence, the teddy bear, into the navigator’s seat. He checked his supplies: two orange juice cartons - check; two salt & vinegar crisps - check; one Cadbury Milk Chocolate - check. The mission was go.
“This is Captain Thomas Carver, ready for take off.”
He pushed the switches made of felt tip pens and paper clips. The engines ignited and the intrepid duo of Thomas and Lawrence were on their way.
“Thusters, max. Lawrence I need a bearing.” Thomas leant over to Lawrence and took a ball bearing from the tin under Lawrence’s seat.
“We should be appoaching planet Ik — Iky — erm Iky-ah? Very soon.” Iky-ah was a yellow planet with blue land masses. It was the home of the Weedish Ferncher Makers. There was no better place to find the technology needed than on a planet full of makers.
“Lawrence what’s that? It looks like a meatier shower. No it’s not. It’s spaceships. We’re under attack by the Domno’s in their Pitsa ships. Eface-sif manoeuvres.”
Thomas steered the ship between two of the Pitsa ships before they could fire. He engaged full throttle and left them behind.
“That was really close Lawrence. Keep an eye out for more.” He turned and looked at Lawrence. “Oops sorry,” Thomas said, embarrassed as he averted his gaze from the one-eyed teddy bear.
“We’re here now. I’m going to land on the Red Cross.”
It was a soft landing. Not a piece of paper, envelope or flyer shook free as they touched down on the surface.
“You wait here Lawrence, I’m going to find the leader and goat-she-ate for some help.”
Thomas pressed the eraser to open the doors. He stepped out gingerly, making sure of his footing on the strange planet. His nose started twitching.
“Oh no, Bitish Gas. Gas masks on.” He fitted his mask in no time. Years of training honed his skills for this very moment. “That was close.” He continued on his quest until he came up against the towering Barclay Gaurd.
“I come in peace. Take me to your leader,” Thomas said, commandingly.
The Barclay Gaurd looked down at Thomas and unbolted the door and threw it wide open. He pointed towards a red line on the floor. It led to a red telephone in the distance.
“Follow the Direct Line,” said The Barclay Gaurd.
Thomas made short work of the trek. As he approached the red telephone a tall skinny man in glasses leapt out in front of him and started singing.
Thomas couldn’t help himself. The music hypnotised him and forced him to dance. Before he knew it he was singing “Extra — extra.”
Fortunately it didn’t last long. Once the music died down, the man asked Thomas how he could help.
“I’m looking for something to help my mum not lose my baby brother.”
“I see. How about this, this is our best product. In fact it’s the best product on the market. It’s called the Halifax tracker.”
“That’s sound perfect. Thank you.”
With the tracker secured Thomas returned to Green Bin One full of smiles. His euphoria was soon shattered as he received an incoming message.
“Tommy, your lunch is ready. Come down,” shouted his mum.
“Roger You-ston, returning home now.”
Thomas made another flawless landing at Carver Space Agency. He ran down the stairs in excitement. His mission was complete.
“Mum, this is for you. It’s a tracker. Keep it with my little brother and he won’t go missing.”
Thomas’s mum took the Halifax letter and looked at him a bit confused.
“Thank you. Now go and lay the table,” said Thomas’s mum.
Thomas’s dad let out a laugh when Thomas left the kitchen. “Is that a mortgage letter?” he asked Thomas’ mum.
She nodded giving him a big grin.
Author Notes: Prompt driven story. Prompt was Junk Mail.
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United Kingdom • 53 years old