12 seconds to midnightA Chapter by MoriartyMesa
Sixteen drug crazed fueled hours was all the time I had left before the
website would be hounding me for an article I should have finished three
days ago before I gambled the boat I stole away on a s****y roll in
Tasmania. How the hell can a man roll so many snake eye's while
drinking hash wine? Those gentlemen were very reasonable, despite their
evil glares of pretending to not know a single word of English, last
time I agree to blow up a boat with Hawaiian punch and napalm, no one
has a sense of humor anymore.
About three hours ago this god damn plane was ready to crash, the c**k brained pilot stole my personal travel bag, all items in said bag have all be prescribed by a practicing doctor, some in respectable countries, others from specialized medicine men from various tribes all over the world. What sort of fool takes a handful of pills and than rings the stewardess for a blow job? A Hero that is who, although i am more than sure this pilot is a complete anti-social lunatic, but he did have to pass a written test to become a pilot, everything evens out. Our captain freed himself from the chains of his uniform as he ran screaming up and down looking for a soft place to slap his a*s with a jar of mustard while singing "Everybody Needs Some Body Some Times". Braver men than I have traveled on far less mind expanding treats in harsher conditions but this was the plane The Doors would have built of music could be turned into steal and jet engines. Every single bathroom was in use as the younger crowd took turns joining the 'Mile High Club'. The entire crew had succumbed to an orgy of Drugs and Sex with a group of College kids returning home from spring break. The future of an entire nation, drinking heavy, having lustful carnal knowledge with someone they promise they will call as soon as they get home. While Captain Uppers was busy running up and down the plane, his co-pilot had enough trouble screaming on the radio demanding to know why his wife was sleeping with Roger the air traffic controller. The passengers I sat in consisted of a group of seniors on their way home to California, all resting peacefully as the nightmare of drugs, alcohol, sex and violence had over taken those of us who had spent three days awake in a binge of vice and internet journalism in the new era of mass media. "Good Evening ladies and gentlemen, this is your Co-Pilot Dan, um, my wife apparently thinks I have a small penis, so she is having an affair with Roger, I SWEAR TO GOD POLLY ANN, I WILL CRASH THIS GOD DAMN PLANE INTO THE F*****G TOWER!!!!' Yea, I'm sorry about that Ladies and Gentlemen, Mondays, huh?" It was than, the acid kicked in! In my rush to catch my flight, I had placed three sheets of acid into a pack of mint strips, and sort of forgot about them. With utter chaos around me, I knew it was up to me to land this plane safely, get to my editor and explain why his boat may have been traded in Japan for a Mustang I later crashed while covering the fashion show. I was sure he would except my article over some boring fashion show. My only way to the c**k pit was through a crowd of horny college kids on a sex rampage, the only plus was the chance of scoring so free drugs or at least seeing what happened to my god damn drink I ordered two hours prior. The youth of America is a generation in a complete adaptation of the media it has leached onto this breed of children. Girls from Dallas showing their tits to horny males who post the picture of dumb blonde with a complete lack of self restraint. I admire that in a person and believe it should not only be accepted but expected. Which one of these coeds fathers will see his daughters bouncy chest on a website while surfing for internet porn? Laws of probability tend to be high. Damn it, and that was why I knew the front of the plane was a dangerous place to cross, as Ulysses had his sirens, modernism in man has moronic blonde girls tits as distractions of doom. My hand was inches from the handle of the c**k pit door as I heard a terrifying screaming from behind me, "WHEN I PULL ON IT I SEE I STARS!" Yelled the captain was he knocked me over and made his way into the flight control. "STARS!" He pulled back and we proceed to climb as a furious speed, as I rolled back, my mind was thankful I was still on acid other wise this would have been a bad flight. My body crashed into the rear of the plane, a small group of young college hippie/hipsters were huddled around a shaken woman in a uniform, "THEY DON'T EVEN RESPECT WHAT I DO! (sobbing)I'M THE NAVIGATOR!" the make-up ran down her face like a clowned sprayed with water. "WHY ARE THEY SO MEAN AHAHAHA!" My head injury seemed to be slight but the screaming of this woman made me wish my skull had cracked. "Oh my god, you know what, what you should do, we should totally help you take over the plane, cause i read like in Africa-Asia next to China in the city of Japan, there are like kids starving and we should totally help them." Very few times a man should be allowed to slap a woman, this is one of those times a man should be allowed, so instead I punched her boyfriend in the balls, and stole his joint. My next instinct was to run straight to the c**k pit and demand the co-pilot yelled to my journalist credentials. Before the mutiny of the angry Navigator and nut swollen hippies find me and tear me to shreds. By now the elderly people were awake all watching a film, totally blind to the insanity one curtain away. Seeking in would be hard to do, as the blonde girls from Dallas Tech, will undoubted attempt to trick me with visions of licking jello shots out of cleavage, the fools had no idea the danger we were in. Thankfully, the Sky Marshall was on the job doing beer bong rips in order to blend in with his surroundings. My dead-line was in six hours, that plane would need to be flown by a complete professional with Journalist training and total complete truth of the American Dream. Creeping into the c**k pit, co-pilot Dan was making another announcement, lulling the fools into a sense of safety, "Hey folks, its me again, I want to tell you why my wife is a lying dirty w***e. You see we have three lovely children, all of them are Mexican, which is quite funny cause Polly Ann is French Canadian and my family is all ginger. If anyone is a doctor and can help me solve this, well we call them 'Brown Miracles', but its all a lie, so bye." Clearly, this man was in need of Professional guidance, respectful and comfortable surrounding with a support of people to help him through his personal crisis. But I didn't have time for that so I introduced him to 'Sister Mary Jane' and he curdled up like a baby. My intention and motives have been totally honorable from the very beginning, it was up to me to save the passengers, crew, and hand in my story in less than four hours. To Be Continued...... © 2012 MoriartyMesaReviews
|
Stats
775 Views
8 Reviews  Last Updated on July 16, 2012 Author
MoriartyMesaGONZOLAND!!!!!!!!!!!!, CAAboutI am back! And in the word's of someone i met at a bus station. I cant remember. more..Writing
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|
![[send message]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/mail.png){kind=small}
![[befriend]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/friend.png){kind=small}
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Flag Writing
