Out of the smoke of the crash, he emerged, unscathed and smiling. “I live,” he said. The forces of Ming the Merciless shrank back in horror and surprise. The Writer smiled. A good day’s work.
“Is that it?” Flash Gordon turned his face to the sky, where the persistent clacking was distracting. Dark clouds gathered, ominous. It would be a stormy night. “You can’t leave me like this,” he cried. “I’m stuck here on this alien world!”
“You’ll be fine,” the Writer said. “I’ll be right back, I promise. I just need more coffee.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have hordes of zombies and Ming’s forces waiting for my next move. But that’s all right. Take your time. You’ll think of something. You always do.”
In the meantime, the hordes salivated. A cry went up, “Flash! Flash! Flash!”
Music started, wild and irresistible. Flash ripped off what was left of his shirt. He danced, shoulders shaking. The crowd moved with him, as if they all had the same idea at the same time. Flowers rained down from the balconies. Girls swooned as they passed.
“Well, I’m back,” the Writer said. “What have you been up to?”
First appeared on Flash! Friday 6-30