You cry like a baby
woman for about 5 seconds, and then get on with your lives. You and
Mickey walk up to the ticket booth and the woman there commends you for
proudly displaying your manly affection. What can you do, Mickey likes
holding hands, and you wouldn't want to make that big hulking Swede
angry now would you? Didn't think so.
Anyway, the ticket lady
tells you both that you may now board the plane. "P-PLANE!?" whimpers
Mickey. "Uh yeah, how else are we supposed to get to the island!?" "NOOOOO!
MICKEY NO LIKE THE PLANES! THEY LAND ON MY PARENTS JUST AFTER I WAS
BORN! RAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!" You try calming him down, but soon enough
he's flinging fists and elbows all around and airport security is
quickly called over. You hear them say something about taking Mickey to
a hospital as he's dragged away kicking and screaming.
Really, what the fuck made you think to bring THAT guy with you!?
"Oh well, guess I'll
just have to go on the trip by myself," you chuckle as you begin to
board the plane. "Not so fast!" a big security guard says as he stops
you dead in your tracks, "You're not going anywhere!" You try to explain
that you had nothing to do with Mickey's outburst, but the security
guard will hear nothing of it. He's convinced you're a terrorist who was
hoping to use Mickey to distract the crowd while you hijacked the plane.
Before you can say
anymore, someone hits you with a
nightstick from behind and you're knocked unconscious. A few hours
later, you wake up in a poorly lit airport interrogation room. So much
for your "Paradise Island" getaway, eh?
An hour or two pass and
the door to the room finally swings open with brute force as a hotshot airport
official enters the room. He's wearing sunglasses, smoking a cigar and
smells like tapioca pudding. He hoists you up by your shirt, looks you
dead in the eye and says "TALK, YOU SONOFABITCH, TALK!" Can't
argue with that...
