This is a story for Al Forbes Sunday Photo Fiction. If you don’t know what Poohsticks are, you can read about them here.
When I was young, my sister and I played Poohsticks behind our house.
Then Chemicorp moved in and soon the stream smoked with acidic fog. We’d grab our gas masks and go play on the bridge with altered rules: last stick to dissolve was the winner.
Then the Earth was destroyed, thank you very much Vogons, and we lived on a small asteroid, spinning wildly around the sun, waving at our neighbors if we passed close by in the debris field. We’d throw pebbles off; first one to orbit the asteroid and hit us in the back of the head was the winner.
Now that we’ve gotten scooped up by space giants and put in a zoo, they throw us into a river of mud and shoot mutant ferrets at us as we float under a bridge a mile high.
But I still beat my sister more than half the time.