The Airline

Drunk and Disorderly. Once you read it, you'll get it.

The Airline

 

Chapter 1: Lift off!

 

 

T’was a bright and sunny Sunday. A clear blue ocean of sky settled above, not a single wave of cloud disturbing its tranquility. A bright and yolky sun, thick with heat and brilliance lay high in the sky as a calm and soothing wind blew gently by. It was a day of biblically perfect proportions. Utterly beautiful and breathtaking. It reflected my mood like no other day had ever before. And boy, did I feel like s**t.

            Removing the beer stained shawl covering my naked form on the floor (like a classy lady), I drunkenly got up, slipping but recovering, and sauntered over to the open veranda, exposing my sunlight-virgin flesh to the world. I stood outstretched, breathing deeply and heartily, sucking in the life giving vapours like a Dyson would dust mites. After a few sticky attempts, I opened my eyes and smiled (I couldn’t feel my face so I’m guessing) at the glorious view of the day before me.

And then I threw up everywhere.

            Natural being-sick-everywhere instincts kicking in, I made a lightning quick plan to dodge, duck, dip, dive and dodge my way to the bathroom and throw up in the toilet basin provided, heroically knowing I hadn’t spilled a drop elsewhere and ruined the carpet. It was a good plan, nay, a great plan! (I was still a little pissed, mind). Its only flaw was the drunken mess trying to use it.

            Flying with piss head airlines was not a pleasant experience. During my departure from Veranda airport to my final destination at toilet basin, many passengers , mainly chunky, soupy ones, had to stop off at a variety of exotic locations, including , but sadly, not limited to : chair, floor, table, frying pan, pizza box (opened), Kevin’s‘ cup, pizza box (unopened) and, a surprise stop off, other chair. Having not made it half way to my intended drop off and already low on fuel, I decided it best to perform an emergency stop on dining room rug and wait for a better flight.

            Spread eagled on the floor and breathing heavily, I questioned whether I was suffering from extreme food poisoning or if my death was near at hand (the more likely scenario at the time). A sudden loud knocking at the door, however, broke me from my morbid theorizing. Grabbing a table leg, I attempted to push myself up and stand but immediately came into contact with some of the joyously slimy escapees of my bowels from earlier and quickly descended with a painful thump to my previous position. Groaning at the pain and the thick gloopyness on my hands, attempt number two found me the desperate elevated victory I had been seeking and propelled me on my stilting journey towards the origin of ‘the knock’.

            The knocking grew more intense as I approached, growing louder, more rapid, more annoying, more.. ‘GOD DAMNIT I’M COMING!’

            I flung the door wide, legs apart, arms splayed wide, eyes focused on the creature in front, boring into it with the heat of raw drunken aggression. I opened my mouth to lash out at the knocker, my tongue laced with the spicy zest of last night’s curry, when my senses decided to sail back from their trip in Alcoholia-No Caria to port Reason just in time.

           

 

 

 

The little girls trembling lip faced form stared at me eye to eye, her little box of homemade cookies shaking in her hands as her big brown eyes welled up with the ever present childish fear of being shouted at. Her mouth opened to begin the inevitable spill of the well of tears, but as she looked down her mouth formed a perfect tiny O and her eyes flew wide with astonishment. Which would’ve been quite amusing to behold had the words ‘stranger danger’ not been pulsating from the little brown LEDS in her eye sockets.

            Following her shocked expression, I looked down and realized the horror of the scene at place, immediately knowing my argument would never hold up in court. ’I had a sore stomach and forgot to check for irregular breezes brushing against my body, your honour’. Naked, angry drunk guy vs. traumatised brownie girl would go down in history as the fastest jail ruling ever.

            Trying to save the situation, I covered my unmentionables with my hand and blurted out apologies and ‘oh my gods ‘faster than China’s birth rate. But as God would have it (for only He has such a divine instinct for humour), I used my sick covered hand to do so. This caused me to not only recoil at the cold squelchyness on my John Thomas but fling my hand up violently, smacking the poor girl scout full across the face and sending her rolling across the hall. Knowing full well I was going away for life now, I thought maybe trying to atone for my sins would look good to the jury and so I tried to cross the hall and help her up. As she rose from the floor, dazed, she looked around for her bearings, looking for all the world like shed been hit by a car (the pulsating red mark across her face assisting this theory).

 

She saw me approaching then, and opened her little mouth to squeal my end as loud as she could before I managed to lunge across the hall and close a hand over it. Panic set in and she flailed against me with a surprising fury before I managed to convince her I was trying to help, I was sorry to have hit her and to maintain eye contact at all times.

            She calmed down eventually, to the point where I could at least remove my hand from her mouth without worrying she would scream, and so feel slightly less like a child molester. I tried to talk to her, asking if she was okay and if she needed anything, anything to show to her I wasn’t a bad guy (and to reduce my chances of going to prison). She still appeared dazed, but slowly began answering, her quick, panicky breaths slowing down as she began to fix her disheveled appearance.

            It was then as she was sorting her hair, and I was asking if she’d like me to buy her whole box of cookies (which had been slightly crushed and destroyed when they hit the wall) to make up for my assault, that I noticed she froze. Drawing her hand out of her hair, she pulled out a thick chunk of what appeared to be wet mush. Realisation shot across my face while horror and shock creeped across hers, and I knew my hopes for a light sentence were shattered. Shrieking, she pinged into the air, kicked me in the bollocks, and ran off screaming and wailing down the hall.

            Laying naked and hunched over in the hall, gasping for air I knew would not ail my pains nor increase my chances of ever having children, I crawled and dragged my withered body back to the safety of the flat. The door had closed itself when I had left it, but thankfully the handle was low enough for me to reach from a fetal position. Unthankfully, the door had also locked itself, for it knew, like a good door, that only its proper master was allowed in, and only its proper master would have the correct key to let himself in with.

            I decided at that moment that I hated obedient doors.

 

 

 

Author's Note

Please RandR and let me know if i should fix the pacing, add more lines of dialogue, change words, cut sections etc. T'would be most appreciated, dearest community fellows/felloweses

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

Some of your descriptions might be dialed back a little and simplified, such as "The little girls trembling lip faced form...", but your style works very well most of the time, and I think must be "you", so I wouldn't want to change it too much. Some "wordy" writing I've seen puts me off, but not so with this.

[Evan Kayes]

Thanks for the review. I'll admit, i also think i got a little carried away with the wordyness of it all (the heat of writing passion is something that's quite hard to cool off from). I shall try my best to keep it to an acceptable level in my further works. Also i'm very happy you weren't put off by the 'wordyness' of it, as i was very worried that people wouldn't bother with it because it wasn't easy to read. Thanks again for the review, and apologies for the late reply, i shall try within the next day or two to reciprocate the gesture

[Gray Witch]

[Grant P.]

You are a very descriptive writer, and I find it to be well done. At some points it's a little too much, but doesn't hurt the story. I like that you made a slight reference to the movie "Dodge-ball" near the beginning. Keep up the good work.

[Evan Kayes]

Thanks for noticing the little nod to that, it may not be a particularly good film but its one of my favourites. Thanks for taking the time to read my work, I'll reciprocate the favour within the next few days, i promise.

[emmajoy]

Having had a very subtle and appreciative review from you thought i should reciprocate. However, 'subtle' would be a little difficult for this quite disgracefully hilarious story. To be honest 'am surprised you're still alive to tell the tale or if complete imagination, my mind boggles. In parts it's quite wordy which cuts punchlines now and again. Maybe use shorter sentences? However i really do look forward to reading more of your writing, but, not quite so soon after breakfast!

[Evan Kayes]

Haha thank you for your wonderful review. Yes my story wasn't quite as subtly beautiful as yours, I'll make sure to warn you beforehand the next time I post something of this crude nature again, to make sure your breakfast is well and truly digested. Thank you for pointing out the wordyness too, i'll make sure to get a little less carried away with them in my next piece :)

[Marie]

This is funny, and you have a great style. I don't have any suggestions to make. Your style, while good, is not easy to read. This isn't a bad thing necessarily. I'll try to read any other stories you write.

[Evan Kayes]

Thank you very much :) May I ask if you have any idea why you found it uneasy to read? Literally anything you tell me to look at or rethink gives me more experience to become better and better. Thank you very much for taking the time to read my story, and i shall endeavour to read your work also, as soon as I've had my tea :)

[Marie]

How can I explain this? Your words canot simply be read. They require thought.You don't write "I got sick and headed for the bathroom." you write "Flying with piss head airlines was not a pleasant experience. During my departure from Veranda airport to my final destination at toilet basin,". That's what I mean about it not being easy to read. But, as I pointed out, that isn't necessarily a bad thing. You're actually a pretty good writer.

[Evan Kayes]

Well thank you again, as that means a lot coming from such a prolific and capable writer such as yourself. I have to admit, I love words and using them , and I often get carried away with them. I think it's because it makes you feel clever, using big words and over descriptions, but of course, it doesn't mean you are clever haha. I shall make it a point to review my future work to see if I'm making it readable enough for the audience I intend to read it :) Thank you very kindly again for you time and reply

[Marie]

Oh you are clever--but don't get so carried away with words that they become the end and not the means.