Había una vez un chico que se llamaba Andrey

Había una vez un chico que se llamaba Andrey y que no llevaba nada de ropa.
Ah, but if only you spoke Havidos.
But they both didn't, and nor was it likely, and they all knew it. And none of this changed the fact that they were in serious trouble if they didn't act quickly. A plane rumbled
into free-fall. I proposed we have a committee to decide who would be point in regards to crash evacuation. Simon did a powerpoint on possible exits. The ground fast approaching,
"...& sooo," Simon droned, "if we exit the plane from the faaar ree-aar, we might - & I'd like to emphasize the word 'might' - escape unhaarmed." The oxygen masks deployed, dangli
ng in front of the faces of the passengers. The passengers, unlike boring Simon, were screaming with fear, taking no heed to his words. Smart ones put these masks on but the rest
dance until the music stops. At least, that's what Simon's Uncle Blinky used to say. Why he thought of that made no sense given that the plane was on fire. Simon sat in 13F.
The window seat now seemed like a very bad idea. Could he jump the rows and knock over a few old ladies to get to the exit? The fire was behind and and people were already crowding
his personal area. If there was one thing he hated, it was people crowding his personal area. Amid a rising sense of panic, he employed his stock defensive tactic:
Sudden death.

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