Flying Carpet

I really love my flying carpet. It’s really cool. I think I was eight, when my mother took it out of an old chest in our attic and told me that my great, great, great grand father (I don’t remember how many “great” she mentioned) has left that for me. She told me that unlike the common stories told by the Disney books, Aladdin never owned this carpet. “He borrowed the carpet only a few days to impress his date, the princess”, she said.

After school, when it gets dark, I jump on the magic carpet and go around the world. My mother forbids me from flying during the day. She says that they may shoot at me thinking that I am a Russian fighter jet. She is very afraid that the carpet gets bullet holes.

Usually the first place that I fly to is the nearest airport control tower. People there get really nervous when I get close. They can not figure my flying object. Their radars get jammed and they make all the planes stay in standby position for hours. I laugh really hard.

One good thing about this carpet is that it does not need any fuel. That is a blessing especially with the price of gasoline these days. It also doesn’t need oil change or tune-up. I don’t know how many miles are on this carpet. It must be in billions. My mother says it still has low mileage comparing to other carpets of that year model.

When I was younger, I used to drive the carpet really fast. I raced with all jets and space shuttles. I don’t speed any more after the day that I was about to have a head-on collision with a flying saucer. Thank God I didn’t get hit. Later I heard that those guys in the UFO lost control and crashed somewhere in Roswell, New Mexico. Oops, Sorry...

My mother has put many rules for me to ride this carpet. I have to wear a helmet all the time. She says a meteor might hit my head and injure me for life. I like wearing a helmet too. My hair doesn’t get messed up in the high wind.

It may be true that this flying carpet, unlike airplanes, has fresher air and you can even smoke on it, but I think it was not designed well. Whomever that designed it, did not know much about flying. Perhaps he or she was simply a carpet weaver with no mechanical engineering background. For instance this carpet could use a nice stereo sound system, a seat belt or some kind of windshield. Every night that I come back home from my routine flying, I have almost a pound of bugs and insects in my mouth. My mother always screams at me that why I did not shut my mouth during the flight.

I have traveled all places of different continents on the earth, Except the Middle East area. My mother declared that area a “No Fly Zone”. She says there are too many bombs and gunshots in that area and it is not safe for the carpet. This is so sad. I wish my (whatever number) grate grand fathers never find out that this carpet is not able to fly over their homeland.

Once a week, as my mother has ordered, I wash my carpet in the bathtub.

Then I hang it outside in the sun to make it dry. My mother is afraid of sending the carpet to the drycleaners. She says they may figure the pattern and sell it to the Chinese, and then they make millions out of our carpet and fill the market with bad duplicates.

Yesterday when I was blow-drying the carpet to make it dry faster, I noticed a running tread on the left corner of it. I hope my mother won’t see this. She may not let me ride the carpet again. It must have happened last week when I was flying too low and got too close to our city’s television station’s tall antenna. I heard a rip sound too. I only wanted to get a better view from the “nudist camp” near the TV station.

I asked my mother a few nights ago if I could ride a girl with me on the carpet and fly together. I have seen this pretty blond girl that is parachuting every afternoon near my house. I love girls who are not afraid of heights. I think she likes me too. She always keeps staring at me when she is passing me in the air. I hope she is interested in me and not my carpet, like some of those girls that are only attracted to a man because of his car or boat, or his private plane.

My mother said that the girl should not be fat and overweight because this ride sharing may put pressure on the carpet’s transmission. Thanks God that the girl is skinny.

I am so excited about flying with her. I will see her next week and then I can ask her to ride with me. I can not wait until next week. I lie on my bed, close my eyes and pretend that I am flying with her. I imagine kissing her lips in the highest altitude of earth with a sound that is a combination of a passionate kiss and a high blowing wind vibrating our lips. A noise that may sound like this: oomm..Rararara..oommm…