The airplane was a hollow cylinder, put together by engineers who had more trouble coordinating their shirts with their pants, than noticing the yellow mustard stains, left over from three days ago, but they didn’t do anything about that. A passenger could take comfort that their attention to detail was occupied by electrical wires, rather than style and personal hygiene. The engines were attached with bolts. There were several moving parts. If one part moved the wrong way, everybody would die, and by the way, the company was trying to save money.

Sarah walked onto the plane in her skirt and nylons. She did this like a runway model. A gay flight attendant was happy to see her. He grinned big, like a retard, who thinks it’s his birthday, every day. The reason why, was that Sarah complimented him on his eyeliner, nail polish, and cup size, whenever she rode coach. Henry was an A cup, but since his transition, he was Karen, with a Double D.

Originally gay, he was strait. Originally fat, he was thin. Originally simple, he was complicated. The problem was, nobody knew that. All they saw was a flight attendant with KAREN on her nametag.

A dark stranger walked onto the plane. He wore black cowboy boots, a black leather jacket, and a black cowboy hat. He wasn’t Johnny Cash. The man was poor, and his name was Rick. He tried to smuggle his six-shooter through customs. The female security guards made him strip naked.

“What’s your profession, sir?”

“I sell meat, like Matthew McConaughey.”

“Search his cavity.”

“Oooh.”

“Did you find something?”

“No. You’re tight. You must not have done any prison time. You’re free to go.”

To be continued…

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