"That's it!
I've had enough of this insanity!" you yell, punching through the
window and grabbing Tom Cruise by the throat, ignoring the irony that
what you've done is really quite insane. "You can't pilot a plane!
You're just an actor!" you admonish him, pulling him out the front
of the cockpit and tossing him to the ground far, far below.
"Now, let's get back to brass tacks," you say, climbing into the
plane and smiling at the co-pilot, who you now notice is a monkey
wearing a fez.
AIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
But enough of that! You
don't have time to freak out now! You've got a plane to land! You strap
yourself into the seat and look over the controls, my god, so many
controls, knobs, switches, dials, gauges, and that doesn't even begin
to cover the hand cranks, pedals, and rope pulleys. Why, it suddenly
occurs to you now that you have time to sit and think about it, you
don't know how to fly a plane either!
You turn to the monkey and he just bares his teeth and throws his
shoulders up in what would be a comical sort of shrug if you weren't
about to die. And then you do. Die, I mean.
