Christmas Crackers

She put a red bobble hat on and adjusted the microphone and earpiece.

Donnie sat up, and breathed with considerable pain as a microphone and earpiece lowered automatically from his hat. He climbed over the seat and took stock of the situation.

Yep, in the shit again; how strange. He winced in the pain.

An enemy fighter zoomed past firing its weapons yet somehow not hitting them.

Oh, and being shot at, he mused with considerable cynicism. Mustn’t forget that.

The fighter was blasted as a result of Carol’s video-game honed skills.

‘Nice shooting,’ he said, impressed.

‘You might want to watch where we’re going,’ she replied, squeezing off a couple more shots. Two more fighters exploded.

Donnie glanced forward, hunting for the directional controller.

‘Press the Blue button,’ she said. ‘That’ll put guidance on manual.’

‘How on earth do you know all this,’ he asked, looking back over his shoulder.

‘I’m a kid,’ she replied.

Zap, zap, zap! went the gun. This sound was followed by an explosion of unfortunate proportions for the occupants of the craft.

‘So?’

‘So kids don’t think the same as adults. We look for ways to make things go. You look for ways not to break stuff.’

Donnie looked forwards again, raising his eyebrows in new-found respect. She was right, of course.

He pressed the blue button just as an attack-ship flew past, its guns firing indiscriminately.

‘You little shit!’

Donnie grabbed the navigation joystick which had flipped out of the console and forced the sleigh into a tight roll to avoid an attack from another direction.

Then, breaking at least three of the laws of physics — and one of digestion — they ended up right behind the attacker.

‘Red button,’ he asked.

‘The one marked Launch missile, yes’ she said, a tinge of child-like frustration in her voice.

‘Launch missile it is,’ said Donnie with an evil grin.