Free flight. Is that what they call it? When the noise stops and all you can hear is the air fighting the wings. When you hold your breath, giving the situation enough time to completely get out of hand. Plummeting down at a speed you thought wasn't possible to experience conciously. The street rushing up to meet you as you hold your Mt. Dew and race on xbox "I'm sorry Sir, I'm afraid that we can't grant you your last dying wish." said the prison officer. "But I'm sure you can give me the Mt. Dew atleast. Forget the Xbox, just gimme that sweet nectar of the gods!"The prison officer had been plagued by "Dew-Addiction" - or "DADD",in certain circles - since he was 5.He was filled with unquenchable desire.Now he is a proud member of Dads Against Dew Addiction (DADADD). He goes to public schools to discourage kids from drinking Dew. "It'll hurt your little swimmies, boys," he'll warn. "& ruin your teeth!" The boys didn't heed Dad's warning, though, & drank Dew to their hearts content, so they grew up to be impotent, toothless & permanently wired. Kids these days don't know what's good. Why, in Dad's day everyone drank mineral spirits until they could hear their late ancestors speak from beyond the grave. People were more spiritual back Then. Had primordial soup parties and that. Dad was a necroromancer. You read that right. His job was too woo the dead. Pulled Rasputin once, from what I recall. But blood is thicker than the evolutionary sludge from whence all life began. Despite the ill-repute of the profession, I decided then and there to go into the family business.



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