An Open Letter

I wrote this six years ago today. Still I have no agent. Not sure if that's good or bad.

"Dear Literary Agent,
I have been searching high and low for you, looking everywhere I can for you. I hope to capture your attention and hold it with my written words. I promise you, good or bad, I will stir something up inside you, just ask anyone on the list of people I give you to ask, I have paid them well to speak highly of me. ;)

Forever Yours,

A Writer."

Der Baron

The sirens began to scream, that could only mean one thing, he is returning.
Quickly I gulp down the warm dark brew that remained in my hard glass mug.  Slamming it down on the table, I wiped away the residue from my mouth as I ran toward the door.  The other lads, coming from whatever they were just doing, were running toward the same place I was.
I jumped up quickly, kicking my feet out in front of me, my right foot, then my left, testing the rudders.  I grabbed the stick in front of me, swinging it round in a circle in front of me, making sure it was free of obstruction.
“Contact,” I yell, letting my mechanic know I’m ready for him to cranky my propeller.
With a hard yank down, the magnetos catch on the first try, causing my whole craft to shake as the engine sputters roughly before I push the throttle forward slowly, trying not to flood the engine.  The wind generated by my propeller is slapping me in the face with cool air.
I push the throttle forward all the way and away I go.  I pull back on the stick just in time to see a silhouette of three wings flying high overhead.  My comrades and I bank to the left, giving chase.
In a matter of minutes we are within reach, anger building as he taunts us, flying in a circle, waiting for us to catch up.
I hear the sounds of guns firing as the first pilot engages.  He fired too quickly and our joint enemy pulls up into a loop, firing as he reaches the top, smoke puffing out of the engine.  We have sustained our first casualty of the day.
One by one I witness my fellow lads fall from the sky.  I am not afraid.  This time things will be different.
Round and round we fly, circling each other, but unable to hit him as I fire my guns.  I know he is toying with me as I can hear him laughing at me as he passes over me.
Circling back around, he fires on me.  Direct hit.  I bail out, floating down to the ground as he salutes before rolling a barrel roll and flying off into the sun.
“Someday I’ll get you, Red Baron!”