Monday, October 01, 2007


This is just to say I have confirmed your reservation with Hell Life Airlines. We're going to swoop you up really high, so the clouds develop their own personalities -- bashful, grumpy, ineffable -- and your fingers sweat burn victims on the armrests. Once we've reach our cruising altitude, we'll pour drinks down your pants and play pinata with your mouth. When the teeth explode we'll be around to pick them up and eat them like candy. The descent is when things get really exciting. We'll throw the pilot out the door and force you to land the plane on the runway. Never mind that the yoke is your ripped tongue and the instrument displays all point to boiling temperatures. The window fogs up with whipped cream and your face grows red as a prisoner cherry. You'll expect to crash immediately, but we'll delay it by taking you back to the playground of your youth. The other kids spin you on the merry-go-round, splash sand in your hair, call you the scared-iest scaredy cat ever. Its your fate to sit in the center and take everything all in, going around in circles to nowhere.


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