Liar, Liar Plane's on fire!.......AHHHHHH! (Part II of III)

Posted by Kyle Jacobson , Friday, June 11, 2010 7:05 PM

Contrary to popular belief, waking up with thirteen salted peanuts lodged in your nasal cavity isn't the most pleasant thing. I finally got the last peanut out when over the loud speaker we hear,
"Man, I was way off," echoed the voice of our captain named Brad.
"Yeah, you need a lot more practice. But I admit, I am far from being any good at this thing."
"I did almost hit it right on the top there, I was dang close. Just don't tell anyone that I'm just plain awful at this okay?"

Since I, having some flying experience as a third time flyer, I decided to step up to the responsibility of getting these passengers home safe and sound. (I'm still working on what it means to get someone home sound.) As I opened the steel-looking cardboard door to the cockpit, I was absolutely dumbstruck by what was going on. Captain named Brad and his co-pilot Damian "the angle-grinder" Slvchkrvlc were competing in an intense game of horseshoes. I was taken aback by this moment, so taken aback that I had my personal stenographer record the occurring events for the next faculty picnic at Leaky-Pants High. Luckily, a gas station attendant anonymously known as T.S., arrested them both. T.S. conveniently carried around his laptop that was also a parachute. Thinking quickly he jumped out the front windshield that was knocked out in the sixth round of their horseshoe tournament. Now that Captain named brad and D"ta-g"S are gone, I know that there is a question festering inside of you, aching to escape. "WHY IN THE HECK WOULD A CAPTAIN AND HIS CO-PILOT LEAVE WITHOUT ANNOUNCING THE WINNER?" Well, Captain named Brad was trailing behind on the last round before being heaved out the window.
However, as they were peacefully falling to the ground they both spotted Sam the state seagull struggling furiously to fly with a horseshoe hanging around his neck. Ringer.
     We all looked at each other with blank stares as the reality of the situation hit us. A perfect "you could hear a pin drop on a memory foam mattress," silence would have washed over the entire plane if it weren't for that singing night-terror rabbit from the skittle commercial. It even sang all 35,212 feet to the ground, landing into a preheated waffle iron. The velocity of the fall caused the rabbit to turn into the exact consistency of McDonald's waffle batter. To be continued...


Next Time: Will Kyle make it to India? Will Sam endure? Will McDonald's add an item to their dollar menu?


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