You immediately smell the fumes of cleaners and disinfectant, the stale atmosphere of the stinky air conditioner, the food being cooked before takeoff. The shit you just ate out of someone's ass in your teeth. I am wearing something very comfortable, shirt, pants and thong underwear to stimulate my anus into multiple orgasms as cruising altitude is reached.
I love pie, more then anything in the world, I would die for it, but I can't have it anymore.
In time the airplane launches and I pull out my Exacto Knife, stab the person next to me and begin to take hostages. My other buddies who are with me take out their Exacto knives, butter knives, and spoons to control the rest of the passengers. As we crash the plane into the local McDonalds I laugh. I am giggling like a school girl while flinging shit out the window and dancing to some Elvis tunes.
But I - can't – help, falling in love - with you.
It reminds me of when my retarded uncle said that a plane looked like a big pickle flying through the sky. Then he jumped out of a window and broke his back. We all laughed and laughed and thought he was dead, but he wasn't. So we visited him and laughed and he laughed; and he lied and we lied; and in time no cared anymore and forgot.
I didn't forget.
He made the pickle-airplane joke, but he probably meant his pickled penis in my ass.
