Yet Another Drabble About Rocket Boots

The wind howls as I stare through the plane’s door into empty sky, exhilarated.

My fucking rocket boots. Eleven years late, but finally arrived.

When Rob told me he’d built a pair, and chartered a plane, I jumped at the opportunity. But now, about to leap into freefall with nothing but boots to protect me, I’m having understandable second thoughts.

“We’re absolutely sure these work?” I scream over the sound of the engines.

“One way to find out!” He calls back.

“A series of clinical tests?” I try to ask, but by the end of the sentence I’m spiraling downward…

Rocket Boots

For my birthday this year, I got Rocket Boots.

I’d been saying I wanted them since 2001. It is, in my opinion, officially the future, and Rocket Boots signify that to me. Fortunately, enough of my friends are engineers and, apparently, they’ve spent their free time designing and testing a prototype.

They won’t be available for public purchase for years, it takes forever for so dangerous a product to get to market. But they gave me the prototype pair.

It was an incredibly thoughtful gift.

Anyway, enjoy sitting in traffic, sucker, I’ll meet you at work.

I have to soar.