The Baked Good
The familiarity of the jet’s cabin sinks in just as soon as Dallas’s eyes adjust to the artificial light. There are six cushy chairs, two of which have a table between them. Each seat has a cup holder to either its right or left, depending on which way they’re facing, and each also comes with a little television screen.
“You can sit anywhere you like,” says the pilot in a friendly tone. He drops a reassuring hand on Dallas’s right shoulder. “I remember flying you and your folks down here a few years ago; I have a feeling the return trip won’t be quite as stressful for ya.”
Dallas smiles. “Yeah, I don’t think so either.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the sketchy gift his uncle deposited there. Contained within the plastic wrapping, which only gets greasier the further Dallas unwraps it, is a single brownie. “Hey, you want this? I’m more of a peanut butter cookie kind of guy.”
The pilot takes the baked good and sniffs it, then breaks it in half and gives half to Dallas. “I think you’ll want to eat this one anyway.”
“Why?” asks Dallas, the only twenty-one-year-old in America who’s yet to feel the loving touch of intoxication.
“Just trust me, buddy,” says the pilot of the private jet. He pats Dallas’s shoulder and disappears into the cockpit, leaving Dallas to explore the cabin.
Dallas doesn’t do much exploring because there’s not much exploring to be done – he’s in the cabin of a private jet; it’s cool and all, but it’s not that big, just a few seats and whatnot – but he does sit down and eat the brownie in two bites. It only serves to remind him why he prefers cookies: brownies just taste weird, this one especially. Oh well. He leans his head back and lets his mind take a swan dive through the reflective surface of the cool pool of unconsciousness; he’s out before the pilot gives his takeoff spiel. If Dallas had managed to stay awake, he’d hear the pilot giggling like a little girl over the intercom, but he didn’t so he doesn’t and the wheels of the jet fold into its navy blue belly just as soon as they leave the ground.
Hello Commons, this has been the second subchapter of the fourteenth story from Convenient Incidents, an anthology of fifteen interconnected short stories which revolve around a man by the name of Hilter Odolf Williamson.
Convenient Incidents is part of the Third Spiral, an anthology of sorts called The Here and Now which is comprised of stories told from the various planes of Existence.
Convenient Incidents is available to read for free in its entirety on my website. Click here to check it out.
I’ve written a few other books, too. Click here to see the list.
If you like Convenient Incidents and would like to help support my work, click here and buy an autographed copy of the book (or anything else!) from my store. Alternatively, you can snag a cheaper (and unsigned) copy from Amazon by clicking here.
Be well Commons~