The Man From Mars - Episode Forty Three

   The Filipino cleaning lady, Martha, leaves me alone with my bottle of whiskey, as our flight slowly descends.
   I was thinking at the time, before I noticed the "Buckle Your Seat Belt" sign illuminate that, only on a Billionaire's Jet would there be a full time cleaning lady on board for messy people like me to pick up after.
   That is when our slow descent in the aircraft became a quicker one. No longer angling the nose of the plane at an obtuse slant downwards, but at a reflex angle down, where the help of the Earth's gravity gives our jet extra momentum in speed.
   I put my glass of whiskey in an ingenious cup holder, where the top of the drink always points straight up, keeping the mixture level with the ground.
   I watch it closely, while fighting my way through the increasing G forces to buckle my seat belt, imagining how smart the designers were, by using a gyrostabilizer to keep me from spilling my Scotch.
   I started contemplating if I should try to take a sip of my drink, while we are diving towards the Earth, or wait to see if we level off in time.
   It would be a shame though, to waste perfectly good whiskey, by not drinking it, if we should crash.
   I try to distract myself from this obviously indulgent self-medicating urges to drink away my thoughts of being flattened like a pancake if we hit the ground.
   So much has been happening to me lately, with people trying to kill me for the amulet, that I was about to give into the urge, of finding courage from a bottle.
   But I already had enough courage. The bottle was half empty.
   I glanced out my window and see the ground racing rapidly towards us. I think about the liquid courage sitting next to me in a gyroscopic cup holder. Instead, I pull down the plastic curtain to cover up my window, and start hoping for the best.
   Suddenly, well suddenly for me anyways, the private jet levels off and kicks into overdrive.
   I know, its not a car, but for me, that is the best way to described how the jet plane seem to feel as it accelerated faster once we leveled off.
   I did not lift up the plastic curtain covering my window, because I really didn't want to know how close to the ground we were.
   My stomach, this time around, wasn't reacting to the maneuvers the jet was performing, unlike the helicopter ride I had earlier and what seemed like a week or so ago, but to the half a bottle of Chivas Regal floating around inside my guts.
   I unbuckled, got up, ran towards the back of the jet plane, and closed the lavatory door behind me.
   You can guess what happened next.
   Do I really need to spell it out for you?
   That is when the man of few words, Tiny, knocked on the door and said, "We need to talk."
   My answer?
   "Sspppeeeewwwww."
   And my vomit came out like Linda Blair's green slim in the movie, "The Exorcist!"

 

To Be Continued.....

Next Week.

This Is,

Sorry For The Blatant Puking Scene,

But It Just Seem To Go With The Story So Nicely,

Jim Hauenstein,

And,

“Does love make the world go around? Well yes. But whiskey makes it go around twice as fast.”
- James Hauenstein -

That is my story and I am sticking to it!

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