"Politics in The Basket"
Kristoffer Lawson
7th Nov 2002


A five year old boy had become a fighter pilot. His mother was proud of
him. His father was proud of him. His grandparents barely knew what a fighter
jet was, but they felt it was their duty as grandparents to be proud of him
anyway. 

He sat at the controls of his plane and twiddled the odd knob, expertly 
balancing the complex machine. The seat was comfortable. His mind was 
focused. He peered out of the 
cockpit, bravely viewing the world going by at a horrendous speed.
He turned back to his HUD where an important target was blinking. There
would be civilian casualties, but orders were orders. He targeted the bombs
and fired. Moments later a large explosion toppled high buildings to the
ground. He could not hear the screams.

His mother smiled. His father smiled. His grandparents were giddy. He climbed
out of the cockpit to join them, his face was glowing with joy.

"When can I go again?" he asked, almost jumping in the air.
"I thought you wanted more candy floss?" his father asked innocently, not 
wishing to have to queue up again.