What happened was, right, Max, Elliot and I were walking back from the field after an ace game of Aerobie where we were all really good at Aerobie again, and I said "Watch this, I'm going to throw this through the kitchen door!", but instead I kind of.. sort of.. threw it on the roof.
Yeah..
But it was windy. And the other two will vouch for that.
But all last night, I was worried that it would blow down in the night, and that some swift fingered nutjob would pinch it and have it as their own.
Until Tom Raywood came into the picture.
Once I got Tom on board with my desire to retrieve that rubbery bastard, everything came together:
We got six broom and mop handles (from three different houses), taped them together, and stuck a plastic coat hanger hook on top to drag it down. Sounds like a load of old bollocks, but it only went and worked, didn't it? As you can see, Tom's visibility was zero, so I had to stand back on the grassy knoll and direct him. Within five minutes of our invention being up there, the Aerobie was safe and sound back down to earth.
It was a moment of pride, of bravery, of perfect proportionality betwixt man and machine.
Oh Icarus, thou wouldst cry, fly not your broom handles so close to Our Dearest Star. Yet fly them we did, so shit off.
Thanks Tom.
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