A thrilling story with just enough words to make you interested. By the way tell me if you got the pun at the end.


2. Harley

              They grumbled as they woke up.  The sunlight pierced their eyes.  They blinked for a while trying to refocus their eyes. 

            I kept on struggling to find my vision.  Meanwhile the commander yapped at us to get up and get moving.

            A flame inside me ignited as he kept on yapping.  I got up and swung my arm at him missing wildly as my vision hadn’t set properly. He started to come back at me infuriated until Tom came and separated us.  I had the desire to shove Tom to the sand and launch myself at the commander but we had a mission and Tom was my best friend.  “Where are we?” I asked Tom.  Tom fumbled around in his suit pocket for the navigation device that had somehow survived the crash. “Uhh it says here we are 53 miles east of the edge of the Great Basin Desert.  “Great” the commander yelled sarcastically.  Things were not going well until I had remembered something.

            “Wait!” I called after them as they were going to check if there was anything left to salvage on the ship. “What?” Tom questioned enthusiastically as I was running toward them.  As I was panting I tried to speak but the words came out like gibberish I pulled out my pillow.  Just as Tom was about to leave with a confused expression all over his face, I pressed a button and the pillow made an eerie noise that was so loud but it was so delightful to watch the pillow transform into a glorifying Harley-Davidson bike with a flame decal.  Voila. Three seats on here too.  “Are you kidding me?!” yells the commander.  “Awesome huh,” I said tossing both a helmet.  “Let’s ride,” I said with some swag.  That was awesome I thought to myself I had just saved the day.  “What?” I questioned as they were standing and staring in awe. They finally got on and we were on our way on U.S. 93.  “Omaha, Nebraska here we come!” I yelled in true happiness.  50 miles and we’re out of this desert, riding on my motorcycle, I thought to myself.  I was going about 80 miles per hour and it had been 15 minutes as I rode the bike sweat pouring down my face only about 30 miles left I thought to myself. I rode for another 10 miles until I couldn’t do it anymore and asked the commander to take the handle as I pulled over.  The commander groaned but took the handle and had a little fun with the Harley, revving it and then took off. 

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