Ficlets

With Apologies To Gary Larson

The plane’s captain looked over at his co-pilot. “Bob, you really need to get a hobby,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Got one, boss,” replied Bob, chuckling throatily as he carefully guided the plane towards the next stormcloud. “Passengers need a bit of a shakeup sometimes.” He glanced at the weather radar and a horrible grin spread across his face. “Big storm coming in from the east. They’ll have fun with that, eh?”

“Really?” said the captain, leaning towards the screen. “Blimey, you’re not kidding. Right, sorry to spoil your fun but there’s no way in hell I’m taking us through the middle of that. I’m taking control.”

Bob leaned back in his seat scowling as the captain sent the plane into a long and gentle bank. “Honestly, Jerry, you need to lighten up. Nothing wrong with going through a little bit of rough air.”

The captain, his eyes fixed on his instruments, spoke slowly and carefully. “You’re right. Rough air is fine. But that -” he tapped the radar screen – “is something else entirely.”

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