Here are Week 48 @Twitstery tweets of The Golden Parachute, the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance!
As we speak the jet loses altitude. “I don’t understand how they were able to get into the air in the first place.” “A wing and a prayer.”
Regi says “Are we done? I think I’m going to be sick.” David says “One more time.” We climb to perhaps 500 feet and then drop back down.
We level off at 100 feet. The derelict jetliner is right behind us. Regi says “If you are going to roller-coaster again, drop me off first.”
I don’t believe college security guards could rehabilitate, much less pilot a vintage Cuban jetliner. There’s more here that meets the eye.
Campus guards don’t usually wear military camo. Who are those guys? Regi ties off her air sickness bag. As least we didn’t travel backwards.
She says “Why don’t you get airsick?” “Been there, done that. When your life is one big roller coaster, you learn to handle ups an downs.”
The jet is back on our tail. Who are those guys? Over our own engine noise we hear a loud bang, like a cannon shot. Are they shooting at us?
We’re sitting ducks! I yell “INCOMING!” David says “Relax. That wasn’t gunfire. Another jet engine just backfired.” “Jet engines do that?”
“Sometimes.” David says “They won’t be following us much longer.” Sure enough, the derelict jet falls behind and soon disappears from sight.
Regi says “Are we there yet?” “We just cleared the island.” “You have tapioca on your face.” She leans back and wipes pudding from my cheek.
“Too bad about the campus.” “They’ll rebuild it. The medical school racket is too much of a money maker to abandon it.”” I’m still thirsty.”
“Is there any more tapioca?” Over his shoulder, David points in my direction. “He’s wearing what’s left.” Tapioca always turns my stomach.
Time to change the subject. “How will they convince students to return?” “They won’t have to. The monkeys, however, are a different matter.”
“I think they’ll return.” David says “I agree. Monkey see, monkey do.” “I mean the students.” “As long as US med schools are restricted…”
“Caribbean medical schools showed students will tolerate enormous classes and limited faculty access. Why don’t the US schools do the same?”
“A good question.” “I asked one of my classmates why he was specializing in oncology. He said ‘Cause that’s where the money is.'” “Ah ha!”
“Why ah ha?’ “Well, if you flood the market with freshly minted doctors, wages will fall. Suddenly oncology doesn’t look so good anymore.”
“THAT’S why mainland med schools hate us so much!” “Cause you specialize to make dough from disease?” “That’s pathology.” “It certainly is.”
We’re flying so close to the surface I can almost put my hand in the water. I say “David, aren’t we a little too low? No answer. “David?”
“David?” His head is down, his eyes closed. “David?” He snores. Regi pokes his arm. “Huh? What?” “You were asleep?” “No. No. On auto pilot.”
“You’re auto piloting into the ocean.” He pulls the yoke back and we rise to 100 feet. “It’s all good. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)