Private Dick, Chapter 22

More Oren Trough; if I've already posted this, I'm sorry; been posting new ones on another site, and I'm now thoroughly confused, I mean worse than usual!

The following may be grammatically incorrect, to highlight the

main character's lack of smarts!  Also, what do I look like, an editor?

     I could tell I needed a vacation when I woke up groggy and disoriented, and I hadn't even had many beers the night before; certainly not enough to cause me to be staring at the ceiling in a stupor like I was now.  I kept going over and over the same things like a toll bridge, until now, I was broke and out of quarters..  I imagined I could see a big head with a small mouth leering down at me and saying, with a bubble containing his words,

 

     "You, my friend, need a vacation, a break from chasing hooligans and the criminal element."

 

     I thought, yeah, right; hell, I couldn't even afford to take one, which I--and then it hit me, I did want to take one, very much.  I knew I shouldn't, especially since my luck with the ponies hadn't been so good lately--oh, who am I kidding?  I've never had good luck, ever!  If ever there was something that a guy shouldn't do, it was a frivolous vacation.  It would be like pouring money down a rat hole, and I was the rat, only human, sniffing around a mousetrap baited with a delicious-looking hunk of cheese; I knew that the bar would snap down and break my neck, but damn it, I wanted that cheese, no matter what the cost.  And, I was deeply in debt to Guido Parcheesi and friends.  With Guido, friends was a misnomer.  A better way to put it was other not-very-friendly guys with pitted,

evil-looking, scarred up faces perched on swollen necks.

 

 

******

    I sat uncomfortably on a plane, looking out at a 30,000 foot pin wheeling drop into oblivion, with a scotch and soda in one hand, and a death-grip on the armrest of seat 3-A in the other, and an unlit cigar clamped between white-knuckled lips, lips etched into a terrified mask of pants-filling scared.  I'd always been deathly afraid of flying, and thought I could control it; but now I could see I'd thought wrongly.  Out the impossibly-thin window, I watched the propellers whirling around very fast and prayed that they all wouldn't stop spinning, as these, as well as their twin friends on the other wing, were all that were keeping me from a terrifying, bowel-liquefying plunge into nothingness.   Needless to say, but say it I will anyway, flying and me mix about as well as things that don't mix too good.  I glanced up at the stewardess walking by and locked eyes with her.  Actually, I locked onto her arm and pulled her to the general area of my face, or to be more accurate, within range of the terrified mouse squeak that passed for my voice, and managed,

 

     "I need another drink!"

 

     "Sir, we'll be landing in a little while; you may want to reconsider that request."

 

      I completely lost any composure I may have had, and shaking her arm, I shouted, "I need that damn drink; especially if what could happen, which I think is almost a certainty, does happen.  Look out there and tell me what you see?"

 

     "Sir, all I see are fluffy white clouds."

 

     "No, lower; way lower.  See those tiny squares of green and brown?  That's the ground, the ground we're about two minutes from becoming an instant human pancake if those engines quit!"

 

     "Sir, this plane can fly with only part of the engines functional."

 

     "Let's get real, sister; that's the automatic spiel bullshit you spout to normal passengers to keep them calm; well, it aint' going to work with me; I'm not a normal passenger!"

 

     She gave me the kind of lop sided look you might give a misbehaving puppy, and replied, "Oh, fine; I'll just go to the bar, which is right over there, and get you one," and she sashayed her way towards the bar. 

 

     I whined, "Make it five, huh toots?"

 

     Mumbling under her breath, "Call me 'toots' one more time...," she started towards the front of the plane. 

 

     Looking back on it, I should have noticed she was going in the wrong direction, as the bar was in the rear of the plane, but like I said, I was too scared, so I just sat there like a lump of fear.

 

 

     After a few minutes of giving the bug-eyes to the air around the plane to see if I noticed the sudden lurch towards the death I was sure going to happen any second, a man with a tag that said 'captain' on it, approached me and said,

 

     "Sir, Belle here tells me you're upsetting the other passengers with your talk; I'm going to have to ask you to please refrain from saying anything more."

 

     "Oh, she does, does she?"  Now I was pissed  and scared.

 

     "Yes, now please watch your mouth."

 

     "I'm sorry, it's just that this plane IS GOING TO CRASH!" I screamed.

 

     He looked like he's like to punch me in the kidneys, but said only, "Sir, get a hold of yourself, please!"

 

     I responded to that with a high pitched scream, much like a little girl who's had her dolly taken away.  The scream was partly in outrage at his order, but mostly in terror, as I felt the walls closing in on me like a metal tube monster with seats for teeth.  Then, the captain punched me in the kidneys, and then the jaw, then I saw nothing.

 

 

******  

   Slowly, consciousness returned like a long-lost friend who'd been away on vacation to Darknessville, and I shook my head in an effort to better understand just what the hell was happening, and also to try and remember just where I was.  A giant head loomed above me, and the head said,

 

     "I had to restrain you by punching you hard in the face; sorry, but we had to make you shut up."

 

     That's when the ache in my jaw reminded me of what had happened.  The pain was suddenly nauseatingly acute, and I fought the overwhelming desire to air-spew my morning breakfast into the aisle way of Flight 275, and this was Flight 26, but I somehow managed to keep the bile in check. 

 

     The giant head, which I now remembered was attached to the captain's neck, continued, "I've decided to divert to a nearby airport, where you'll be physically removed from this flight.  

 

 

******

     I sat forlornly in the airport lounge and watched as Flight 26 rose like a metal war eagle, into the sky, and watched as it disappeared over the horizon.  Now what was I supposed to do?  There was absolutely no way I was boarding another flying metal box/coffin again, and as I was now stranded on a South American island, the only option open to me was a ship, but that was a problem, as I hadn't remembered to grab my luggage, because I was so pissed about being thrown of my flight, and my wallet was now winging it's way again, inside my luggage, heading for my original destination. 

 

 

     I wiped the sweat off my brow and shoveled another shovelful of coal into the gaping maw of the tramp steamer's insatiable blast furnace.  It would be a sweaty, grimy, long time until we reached Florida, and from there I guessed I would have to hitchhike, but I'd be damned if I'd fly again.  I thought I could control my fear of flying, but a guy changes his tune quickly at 30,000 feet!

 

Reviews

[Vidya Bacchus]

Hahaha that was so damn funny Mikey.I think I like this guy.He's an adorable idiot lol

[Michael Stevens]

Thank you Vidya; I think I can relate to him so well!

[Vidya Bacchus]

You are also an adorable idiot?Well I agree with part of that at least lol

[Vidya Bacchus]

You are also an adorable idiot?Well I agree with part of that at least lol

[Marie]

I guess this is part of a series, and I haven't read the others/ It was funny, though. Oren Trough sounds like quite a character.

[Michael Stevens]

Thank you, and yeah, it's part of a series, although I haven't posted anything from it for quite awhile; so long that I'm not sure where I left off. I just started writing new chapters, and SURPRISE, I'm mixed up, but Oren's a character that I have a lot of fun writing; it's a tribute/parody of some of the great private eye shows/movies from the 40's and 50's. I love them, but sometimes they're a little over the top, what with the toughness, etc.