Week 7: Speed

Type of writing: 
A piece about Kit screaming, a film parody of the 1994 film, Speed.

Time taken:

1 hour and 30

‘Pop quiz hot shots, there’s a bomb in my tonsils. Once the buggy goes 1 mile per hour the bomb is armed. If it drops below 1, it blows up. What do you do?’

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The boy liked to be in constant motion. In his jungle gym his legs would kick. In his rocking chair his arms would flail. At night he would wriggle and writhe until the sky turned blue. In that regard he was unlike his father whom preferred a sedentary lifestyle. Where the dad was passive, the son was active. Kit was a green light boy who saw stopping a personal affront.

It was a beautiful summer’s day. Kit’s mother had heard that the café on The Downs was open for takeaway. This was music to her husband’s ears. It had been a long time since he’d had a proper coffee. Coffee for him was a relatively new phenomenon. He had been raised in a tea drinking household, at a time when there was a divide between hot beverages. You were either on one side or the other. East or West Berlin. Montague or Capulet. Tea or coffee. Never the twain shall meet. A few years ago, though, he did a Romeo – or David Hasselhoff – and crossed the wall. Although his tender heart ruled out coffee in the home (he feared his heart would literally explode), he enjoyed one out as a treat. Therefore, he agreed to the outing.

Releasing the break, they were unaware that the bomb had been activated. Kit had a thirst for speed and wanted his parents to maintain it. Fortunately, his parents were in their stride, so even when faced with a gradient up to The Downs they kept the wheels turning. The boy was happy, looking to his left, looking to his right. He was becoming more interested in the mobile above his head too, staring into its black and white. Unfortunately for the octopus, Kit had also discovered his fighting arms, so the sea animal got it every which way. Even with eight arms, it was no match for Kit’s two. His father, who had never thrown a punch, worried about his son’s skill. Would he grow up to be a prize fighter? Kit ‘The Hit.' A feared bully who would brain-beat all comers. His father hoped not.

As the buggy passed over the rolling hills, the parents darted between lolly sticked ramblers. They came to a point where the café was in sight. It was canopied with kites. A lot were traditional. You know, the rainbow kind. But some were less conventional: a spaceship and a rocket could be seen blazing the sky. With aviation grounded, childhood ruled the skies. It was a pretty picture.

But as they slowed, catastrophe grew closer. The serenity across the boy’s face was displaced by something more ominous. With the sun visor down, the parents were unaware of this, so as they snaked their way through the coffee queue they did not know disaster was imminent. With the ices and coffees paid for, the buggy was now moving at a snail’s pace. The father sipped his coffee and breathed in the caffeine. His body moaned in relief. His heart jolted like a defibrillator. The mother licked her ice cream, clutching it like a trophy.

‘BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!’

As the mother brought her foot to the pedal, everything went slo-mo. Like the moment in a motion picture when the main character realises something awful is about to happen, but is powerless to prevent. Even Jack Traven couldn’t save the pair at this point. Keanu Reeves couldn’t keep this bus on the road. The parents looked down at their son and noted how the angel had gone from him.

The pedal went to red.

The devil had him now.

The bomb went off.