The Space Ship
by Janette van der Vyver
Tyron had the best looking space ship for miles. The blue metallic paint was buffed to such an impossible gloss that one had to wear dark glasses to look at it. The three landing tyres were blackened to a deep dark black that was almost reflective. The windows were spotless, not a crack or smudge to behold. It was Tyron’s pride and joy – his baby.
The ship perched on the tarmac in all its glory; a wondrous site to behold. Every morning he spent at least 30 minutes wiping it down, removing any dew from the night before, or heaven forbid birds’ poop! Sunday was the main cleaning day. Then he would spend the entire morning polishing the exterior to the shiny gloss that could be seen for miles. It wasn’t just any old polish either, mind you. It was the best and most durable polish on the market. He had to go the corners of the galaxy to buy this polish and during the life of the space ship the polish probably exceeded his original purchase price twice over. Only the best was good enough for his space ship. He would take the galaxy passenger passport once a month and go to the Polish shop on Planet Zorz to buy a single tin of the prized polish.
After five hours of polishing it was the turn of the interior. If you thought the outside was dazzling, then the interior would leave you speechless. Inside brass and metal instrument panel was polished into mirror-like precision. The pure-white-upholstery did not have a scratch or a fleck on it, anywhere. The white leather couch was soft and supple from years of tenderly treating the leather with the greatest of care. The chairs sported pure white velvet. The velvet was tenderly brushed until all the hairs stood up in exactly the right form and direction. Heaven forbid an unsuspecting visitor sat down on one of them! They would be ordered off and it would take a good hour to get the velvet to its former glory and precision. Visitors were allowed to sit on the leather as long as they wiped the leather clean with a soft cloth afterwards.
The bits of pile carpet, in dark blue on the floor, were all lovingly brushed and kept spotless. Only the most expensive brushes were used and never a primitive instrument like a broom or vacuum cleaner would be allowed inside this space ship. When a brush was three months old it was retired and a new one purchased. Tyron did not want any of the bristles to fall out and be left behind in his sparkling space ship.
The wood on the rest of the floor was polished to a high gloss. Again, only the best wood polish on the market was used. This was applied using only the softest of cloths. These soft cloths were naturally only used once and then discarded. One couldn’t use a dirty cloth on such a pristine machine and washing the cloths would make them hard.
By sunset every Sunday the ship would be absolutely spotless. Tyron would look at it and sigh in appreciation. How he loved that ship. He would call his wife to come and admire the ship and together they would watch the sun setting beyond their space ship and smile.
“Perhaps one day you will repair the ship’s engine so that we can fly closer to the sunset and experience it from above,” his wife said wistfully.
“I don’t have the money to fix the engine; but isn’t it a beautiful machine?” Tyron answered.
by Janette van der Vyver
Tyron had the best looking space ship for miles. The blue metallic paint was buffed to such an impossible gloss that one had to wear dark glasses to look at it. The three landing tyres were blackened to a deep dark black that was almost reflective. The windows were spotless, not a crack or smudge to behold. It was Tyron’s pride and joy – his baby.
The ship perched on the tarmac in all its glory; a wondrous site to behold. Every morning he spent at least 30 minutes wiping it down, removing any dew from the night before, or heaven forbid birds’ poop! Sunday was the main cleaning day. Then he would spend the entire morning polishing the exterior to the shiny gloss that could be seen for miles. It wasn’t just any old polish either, mind you. It was the best and most durable polish on the market. He had to go the corners of the galaxy to buy this polish and during the life of the space ship the polish probably exceeded his original purchase price twice over. Only the best was good enough for his space ship. He would take the galaxy passenger passport once a month and go to the Polish shop on Planet Zorz to buy a single tin of the prized polish.
After five hours of polishing it was the turn of the interior. If you thought the outside was dazzling, then the interior would leave you speechless. Inside brass and metal instrument panel was polished into mirror-like precision. The pure-white-upholstery did not have a scratch or a fleck on it, anywhere. The white leather couch was soft and supple from years of tenderly treating the leather with the greatest of care. The chairs sported pure white velvet. The velvet was tenderly brushed until all the hairs stood up in exactly the right form and direction. Heaven forbid an unsuspecting visitor sat down on one of them! They would be ordered off and it would take a good hour to get the velvet to its former glory and precision. Visitors were allowed to sit on the leather as long as they wiped the leather clean with a soft cloth afterwards.
The bits of pile carpet, in dark blue on the floor, were all lovingly brushed and kept spotless. Only the most expensive brushes were used and never a primitive instrument like a broom or vacuum cleaner would be allowed inside this space ship. When a brush was three months old it was retired and a new one purchased. Tyron did not want any of the bristles to fall out and be left behind in his sparkling space ship.
The wood on the rest of the floor was polished to a high gloss. Again, only the best wood polish on the market was used. This was applied using only the softest of cloths. These soft cloths were naturally only used once and then discarded. One couldn’t use a dirty cloth on such a pristine machine and washing the cloths would make them hard.
By sunset every Sunday the ship would be absolutely spotless. Tyron would look at it and sigh in appreciation. How he loved that ship. He would call his wife to come and admire the ship and together they would watch the sun setting beyond their space ship and smile.
“Perhaps one day you will repair the ship’s engine so that we can fly closer to the sunset and experience it from above,” his wife said wistfully.
“I don’t have the money to fix the engine; but isn’t it a beautiful machine?” Tyron answered.