Image Credit: Beeple

I hate Mondays. Mondays are the worst. And they are definitely the worst time to attempt atmospheric reentry with one blown engine, vapors in the gas tank and a broken arm.
My ship was essentially a big metal ball of fire hurtling down on the planet, waking up everybody from their beds with the noise because, did I mention, it was a Monday morning?
Of course I was gonna crash it on a Monday.
“Woof!” my best friend said from his seat.
“No, dummy, buckle up,” I cried out, pushing him back on the seat. He always wanted to leave his harness, he never quite understood that it was safer that way. “Stay, Friday. Stay.”
My astrodog whimpered, from fright, from my screaming in his face, I’m not really sure. It’s okay, I’ll see to his hurt feelings after we survive the crash.
I pulled up the flight lever, “It’s fighting me…” I gave useless commentary to ease Friday. He always calmed down when he heard my voice.
Of course, the ship really was fighting me. The aerodynamics that went into use when we hit atmo were pretty much blown. Even when they worked just fine, they were nothing more than the wings on a dart influencing the angle of approach just a tiny bit.
Crapped out as they currently were?
We were just a very aerodynamic brick, falling.
I checked my belt pouch for the hundredth time. Resting up against my jewels, was my remote. It was the most important possession I had. Without it, my son didn’t stand a chance.
My astrodog whimpered, raising his head.
“Buckle up, Friday, don’t fight me on this.”
Friday looked to the side. I didn’t really have time to turn and see, but I didn’t wanna die without knowing. I turned. And there she was, a babe, in a tight airwoman’s suit, her lips at a steep angle and her gun pointed at my face.
“Monday,” I hissed through my teeth, which they rattled from the vibrations of the flight lever. “You.”
“Me,” Monday said with a shrug.
I turned back to the front, which was becoming the direction of ‘down’ very quickly. “We’re gonna die, Monday. No need for that gun.”
She walked closer and petted Friday. I saw her through the reflection on the controls and the gauges, but I knew despite that. Friday woofed in satisfaction.
I turned to him and snarled, “You traitor.”
Monday tsked. “Now, now, Sunday. No need for harsh language.”
“We’re dropping faster than a fried chicken in flight, Monday! Don’t you calm me down!” I screamed in her face, wrestling the controls. I didn’t wanna check the altitude, because I could eyeball it just as easily.
You don’t need flight school to see the ground coming up at you and realise that this is bad, airman. Pull up. Pull up now!
“Sunday,” she said, holstering her gun. “Let me help.”
“I should have pulled out, vixen,” I said noncoherently.
“Your pillow talk needs work, Sunday. I thought it would have improved since last time,” she flirted with me, not a care in the world. Here we were, about to crash to our certain deaths, and she simply rested her firm rear section on the control panel and casually flirted with me, reminding me of that mind-blowing night we had years ago.
“Monday…” I hissed holding the lever. It wasn’t actually doing anything but it was best to keep my hands wrapped around it lest they get wrapped around her wonderfully-smelling neck. “Help. Or let me just die in peace.”
She leaned over the controls and looked out of the cockpit. The ground was coming at an angle and we could make out features and houses. She scoffed at me. “You cloudy fool! You’re trying to minimise the damage, aren’t you? Crash into the mountains, away from the city?”
“That wasn’t actually a question, the way you said it. But yeah, Monday. I am. Got a problem with that?” I showed her my teeth.
She sighed, making her chest raise in wonderful tightness through her suit. “I used to. Not anymore.”
“Care to elaborate on that, since we’re running out of seconds here?” I nodded like a madman.
“I want you back, Sunday.” She said it like it was the hardest thing to do, and then she blinked, staring at me expectantly.
Friday woofed softly and looked from me to her and vice-versa.
“I-Uh… What do you want me to say, Monday?” I let go of the lever, it was pointless anyway. I was still strapped in my pilot’s seat, I wasn’t missing a screw like Monday. “You left two years ago, right when it was getting good. Now you what? Want me back. What does that even mean? And what’s the point, since we’re crashing on the planet?” I opened my palm and presented the inevitable.
Sunday looked away. That’s how I knew she was telling the truth. She stared directly at me every time she lied. “It means a lot to me.”
I shook my head. “Okay, whatever. I’ll come back to you. For the two minutes or less that we have until kablowie time.”
“Oh, Sunday! That makes me so happy!” Monday said and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tight.
Her scent… It was… Well, to be honest, it was exactly what I wanted to feel one last time before dying. Her skin. Her cheek on mine. Her arms around me. Her breath, her flowery hair.
Friday woofed, excited.
I let my worry go.
“I never stopped loving you, Monday,” I confessed.
And then Sunday pulled back and pulled a gun on me. “Don’t unbuckle anything. Stay there like a good boy,” she said, but all I could see was the barrel of the gun aimed at my face.
“What did I do?” I cried out, seriously confused, arms in the air.
On the other hand she was holding my remote. “Gotcha,” she said, her tongue peeking out to the side.
“You wingless woman! That’s to save him. Why are you doing this?”
She stepped backwards, keeping her gun on me. She slid the remote inside a pocket and she was halfway out the hatch.
Even when she betrayed me, the wingless vixen still looked hot as an engine on overdrive.
“I got a better offer, Sunday.”
“It’s the only chance our son has!” I cried out, unbuckling myself. I didn’t care if she’d shoot me, this was important, dammit!
She shot me. She missed, only she never missed so she just wanted me to hunker down and give her time to escape. The windshield shattered sending glass everywhere, the wind blew in my face, I got cuts all over but that was the least of my problems now.
Monday didn’t care about my ship, so she just took a parachute. Which she stole, I might add, and jumped off.
Friday woofed, crying and whimpering. The air howled, it was deafening. The shards had been blown away and now there was a gentle calm. I watched as the mountain came up to me, close enough to touch the tops of the trees.
My astrodog escaped his seat’s harness and bit my pants, shaking me out of my reverie. Woof! Woof!
“Yeah, buddy. You’re right.” I grabbed Friday and threw myself in my seat again, strapping myself down, holding my astrodog tight in my lap.
We crashed, and that was it.

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I threw a piece of the hull in some rocks, it bounced away. Friday followed the azimuth in the air and then turned to me, woofing his curiosity.
“She took my transponder, Friday. We need to walk to the city. And it’s a hundred klicks that way,” I grunted, throwing another piece of my destroyed ship to the right direction.
“I know. I’m sad too.” I petted my astrodog. I sat a little while on the top of the wreckage, the jet engines were intact enough for me to climb onto for a vantage point. The wreckage was still burning, puffing black smoke into the air for at least five klicks radius. There wasn’t much around. Sure, the locals had seen, heard, felt and shat themselves after the crash, but that didn’t mean that rescue was coming.
No. It meant our adventure was just beginning.
No ship, no fuel. No transponder. No gear, no gun, no remote to save my son from the mind control.
Just me and my loyal astrodog on a hostile planet, with a single goat. Somewhere, was my son, and somehow, I needed to release him from the mind control.
“I hate Mondays,” I told my dog and hopped down on the ground on my own two feet.

The End.

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