The Ping Pong People

• Luke Baird, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2009

It was dark inside the Great Ball when Pingoe rose from his ball shaped bed and walked into the pre-game blackness. There were few other Ping Pongs on the streets, so Pingoe searched around in his plastic jeans until he found his wallet. He walked into this favourite café, the Ping Poffee, and ordered breakfast. When the pretty waitress arrived with his food Pingoe was lounging in one of the many chairs, his round head resting on the armrest. The waitress put his food on the table and handed him his cutlery.
“Thanks,” said Pingoe gratefully, before tucking into his ballcon and peggz.
When he finished his food he walked outside to sip his poffee. That was when the game began. The neon lights of the Great Playroom blinked on, sending bright, white lights through the translucent sides of the Great Ball. Emergency sirens cut through the silence like immaterial razors, rousing the Ping Pongs from their sleep with blaring sound. Pingoe rushed toward the nearest public restrainers and attempted to strap himself in. Then the Great Ball lurched and Pingoe was jerked from the safety straps and onto the deserted road. The Racket of Doom was hefted by the terrible Giant and the Great Ball hurtled toward the other Giant, with poor Pingoe tumbling around like a candy wrapper in an up draught. A huge shockwave rattled the entire Ball, and it flew back to the first Giant, sending the light of the neons flickering through the sides. One of the Giants said something in the Bigtongue and the Great Ball was dropped on to the ground, sending shudders through the entire Ball. Then the neons clicked off, leaving the Great Playroom dark. Pingoe hauled himself off the road and staggered back into the café. The waitress unstrapped herself and offered him another poffee. After a sip his stomach heaved and ejected his breakfast onto the café floor.
“Sorry,” he apologised, moving to mop up the mess.
“Don’t worry about it,” sighed the waitress, shooing him away. Pingoe went without a fuss.
Half an hour later he was clambering to the top of Pong Mountain armed with only a kitchen knife and his trusty ping-shot. Pressing up against the side of the Great Ball he drew the knife and made a slit in the side. He slipped out through the hole and into the Great Playroom. He gasped in wonder at the enormity of the place and continued into the Outside.