Them Crazy Bones — Tweeted Mystery “The Golden Parachute” Continues!

Here are Week 89 @Twitstery tweets of The Golden Parachute, the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance!

Regi says to the Concierge “Are you sure Farley’s safe room has no plumbing?” “Yes. That would have represented a possible entry point.”

“So he always wears an adult diaper?” “No. That would be ridiculous. He takes a chamber pot into his safe room.” “He goes potty?” “Yes.”

I say “Not at all ridiculous.” Rixey says “So your diaper idea is full of holes.” “At least we’re dealing with a perp who’s potty trained.”

“He’s taken a step forward from diapers. Can you say the same?” Not rising to the bait, Rixey says “Same difference. He’s not coming out.”

“Forcing this door might injure Granger.” “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” The concierge says “You’ll be billed for anything you break.”

Rixey waves his arm dismissively. The Concierge says “Is police work always like this?” Regi says “I’m new to the scene. I wouldn’t know.”

Rixey’s cops return carrying a crowbar and a screwdriver. “What is that?” “We figured that if we can’t force the door we can unhinge it.”

“The hinges are on the inside.” “Oh. We’ll pry it open.” They insert the crowbar between door and frame and bracing four hands, pull hard.

The Concierge says “The door is reinforced. I doubt you can move it.” Sweat appears on their foreheads. They pull back with visible effort.

“You wimps!” Rixey grabs the end of the crowbar and puts his weight into it. The cops join in. “BREAK DOWN DAMN IT!” Dr. Dot walks over.

Dot asks “What are they trying to do?” “They are trying to break into Farley’s safe room.” “Why do they want to do that?” “To arrest him.”

“Why do they want to arrest him?” “He shot at me and hit Regi.” “Makes sense. Why didn’t they ask me for the key?” “You have a key?” “Yes.”

Dot had the key to Farley Granger’s shielded room all along! I look past him to where Rixey and his two cops are struggling with the door.

The efforts to force the door appear fruitless. Straining against the crowbar, Rixey has turned a dark plum, veins bulging on his forehead.

One of the cops clutches his chest and drops to the ground. “I’m OK. I got a cramp” he gasps. Regi says “We should tell him.” “In a minute.”

“Dot, why are you here?” “I have Willum Granger’s second autopsy results.” “What’s new?” “He died from splitting in two.” “I knew that.”

“Now we know twice.” “Nothing else?” “Someone put his halves together.” “I knew that too.” “They did a sloppy job.” “I didn’t know that.”

“A really inept post-mortem reconnection. The foot bone’s not connected to the leg bone; the leg bone’s not connected to the knee bone.”

“Rixey and the cops go “OOMPH!” “The thigh bone’s not connected to the hip bone; the hip bone’s not connected to the back bone.” “UMPH!”

“What does it mean?” “Them bones ain’t gonna walk around.” “I didn’t think they would.” “Yet somehow they’ve wandered from the cemetery.”

“I’m looking into that.” The crowbar slips from the door frame sending the three cops flying. Rixey shouts “OW! I’ve broken my finger bone!”

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)


Your Call Is Very Important to Us – “The Golden Parachute” Continues!

Here are Week 81 @Twitstery tweets of The Golden Parachute, the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance!

“We’re short on patients just now.” “Yeah. Your attitude leaves much to be desired.” “We aren’t short on patience, we’re short on patients.”.”

“Short? You’re running on empty, like that weird guy doing laps in the hall.” The nurse says “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’ll repeat. How can you run a hospital with no patients?” The nurse hands Regi a surgical top. “You’re blouse is unwearable. Try this.”

Favoring her wounded arm, Regi turns around and slips on the top. She looks fetching freshly scrubbed. The nurse says “You’re set to go.”

“Try not to do anything too strenuous for the next few days.” Regi says “How do I look?” I say “You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“While we wait for your father’s results, we should rest.” Regi frowns. “Thanks. I could sleep right here.” The nurse says “No, you can’t.”

“As long as they’re not in use, can if we sack out in one of your rooms?” She gives me a long look. “She’s been shot. What’s your excuse?”

“I also haven’t slept in a week.” “That explains it. She can use a room for the night. You can’t” “That’s OK. I have to make a phone call.”

We walk along the corridor in search of a room. Regi says “Who are you calling?” “The nurse was right. I need to phone in Farley’s assault.”

The man in t-shirt and shorts jogs past again. I take a quick video. Who is that guy?

Regi says “I feel like the building is spinning.” “Let’s find you a place to rest.” We enter an empty room and Regi lies down on the bed.

“I’ll call it in about your uncle.” “Tell them to hurry.” I step into the hall and speed dial HQ. “You have reached the Police Department.”

That was quick! “Press 1 if this is an emergency.” Uh oh. I press 1. “Press 2 if this is not an emergency but rather an urgency.” I press 1.

“Press 3 if this is not an urgency but merely ‘of note.’ Press 4 if you’d like us to call you back as soon as we can.” I press 1 repeatedly.

Since when does the Police Department have an interactive voice response system? The IVR continues “OK. You pressed 1 for an emergency.”

“Press 1 to turn yourself in for a felony and/or misdemeanor you yourself have committed.” Why do I always have trouble with IVR systems?

“Press 2 to report a felony and/or misdemeanor someone else has committed. Press 3 if you are the victim of a felony and/or misdemeanor.”

I press 3. The IVR says “OK You are the victim of a felony and/or misdemeanor. Press 1 if this felony and/or misdemeanor involved violence.”

“Press 2 if this felony and/or misdemeanor was non-violent.” As I press 1 I peek into the hospital room. Regi is asleep, snoring loudly.

“OK. You chose violence. Press 1 for firearms. Press 2 for stabbing or cutting weapons. Press 3 if no weapon was used. Press 4 for other.”

The IVR is getting on my nerves. “This is Detective Arkaby. Transfer me to the Desk Sergeant at once!” “I didn’t get your last response.”

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

A Parting Shot – “The Golden Parachute” Continues!

Here are Week 79 @Twitstery tweets of The Golden Parachute, the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance!

“What does ‘the essential is invisible to the eye’ mean?” “What you can’t see CAN hurt you.” “Sure, like I didn’t see your crazies coming!”

“Crazy is not taking refuge from the Singularity.” “Make yourself safe. Regi needs medical attention.” “Once you leave I lock that door!”

“Go ahead. Lock it.” “It’s the only way in or out!” “Cuts down the ambiguity.” “You won’t be able to get back in.” “We’re not coming back.”

Regi says “Before now Uncle Farley I had absolutely zero respect for you. Now I have even less.” I say “Below absolute zero? That’s cold!”

Farley says “Your father would want you to stay here.” “MY FATHER?” Regi walks up and grabs his collar. “Don’t you dare speak of my father!”

“Get your damn dirty paws off of me!” “What?” She slap him across the face, hurting her hand in the process. “Ow! What’s the big idea?”

“Did you miss the parts about hiding from the AI Singularity, eyesight invisibility, the safe room I’m locking myself into when you leave?”

“No Farley, I get that. How does crawling into your big hidey hole solve anything?” “Ah Regi! You never were good at adding two and two.”

There is no blunt object within reach. Regi says “Arkaby, can I borrow that ERUPT manual?” I jump between them. “Why are you two fighting?”

Farley and Regi say “S/He started it.” “I don’t care WHO started it. Relatives don’t fight.” “What are you talking about? We always fight!”

“I always fight with Farley. He’s the black sheep of the family. Never a kind word.” “And Regi has always been the chronic underachiever.”

Farley and Regi say “No, I’m not! Yes, you are! I’M NOT!” I say “Save your irresolvable disputations for the soaps. I’m after the truth!”

Farley says “What truth?” “The truth of what this is all about.” “I told you.” “I don’t believe you.” “I’m hurt! What don’t you believe?”

“Mostly the parts about hiding from the AI Singularity, eyesight invisibility, the safe room you’re locking yourself into when we leave.”

“I’m sorry I ever contacted you.” “I have one question before I go. What was the deal with the knock-knock jokes?” “What knock-knock jokes?”

“When you first knock-knocked on my office door you never answered my question.” “Which was?” “Who’s there?” “Not me.” “Huh? Who was it?”

“Let me explain it to you.” Farley grabs my wrist and pulls the ERUPT Manual out of my jacket pocket. “Hey!” I twist free and step away.

“What are you doing? Give that back!” “I was going for my gun. Wrong pocket.” Regi says “Guys?” I reach for the Manual. Farley says “Trade?”

“Trade what?” “The ERUPT Manual for my gun?” I laugh. “Not a chance.” Regi says “Guys? I’m bleeding.” Farley says “Let the book decide.”

Farley opens at random. “‘ Incompetence is the last refuge of the violent.’ Hmm.That doesn’t help.” Regi says “I said I’M STILL BLEEDING!”

While Farley’s distracted I take back the ERUPT manual. “We’re done. Regi, let’s have that arm looked at.” Regi says “Goodbye Uncle Farley.”

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

Night of the Walking Dead Drunk – The Golden Parachute Continues!

Here are Week 38 @Twitstery tweets of “The Golden Parachute” the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance!

“You don’t need to brag, you need to come clean about the black market cadaver business.” “Hey! You called me. Don’t blame the messenger.”

Regi says “We have to hurry. Whoever left Dad will return.” I mute the phone. “Get ready. I’ll deal with this loser.” “Hey, I can hear you.”

“My mute doesn’t work.” I frown and unmute the phone. “David, how soon can you meet us?” “Us?” “Yes. This is a father/daughter outing.”

“Touching. Which is the body?” I glance at Regi. “The father” I say. “I bet. You have to wait ’til after dark. The Chancellor is on-campus.”

Regi and I exchange furtive glances. I’ll have to remember to get mine back from her when this is all over. We say “The Chancellor is here?”

“He came with his posse by which I mean his accountants.” “Does he know I’m here?” “I doubt it.” “We can’t let him learn what we’re up to.”

Just then the Chancellor’s voice booms over the speaker system: “ATTENTION ALL FACULTY, STAFF AND STUDENTS! THERE’S AN INTRUDER ON CAMPUS!”


“We deserve better.” “How does he know what we’re doing!” “Maybe someone IS reading my tweets.” “You should stop doing that.” “I should.”

“We have one chance. All the students and school personnel are probably still drunk or hung over. They won’t be much use searching for us.”

“We just need a diversion to sneak out to the airstrip.” “I can put on a bikini.” Regi glares at me and says “Not that kind of diversion.”

“We’ll think of something. David, where do we meet you?” “They never have a guard at parking lot entrance. I’ll bring my jeep.” “Good idea.”

“One thing bothers me. How did the Chancellor get here so fast? There are no flights during the week. That’s how I got stuck with David.”

David says “I still can hear you. The Chancellor has his own plane so he can fly down to his school anytime he wants.” “Tough luck for us.”

Preparing her father’s body for the trip, Regi says “I have a bag, but I need something to stabilize him for the trip.” “I’ll find padding.”

I peek outside. A twilight sun casts strange shadows as shambling students search the surrounds. It’s like a Night of the Living Dead Drunk.

Hundreds of them, looking for us. This is my kind of fight. He who lives by the sword, dies by the sword, but not before he lives a little.

Though I like the odds, I decide to fight another day. I slip into the lab next door where Yorick is emptying out all the filing cabinets.

As I gather scattered papers for padding Yorick tosses a book at me and dashes next door. Good riddance. He returns brandishing a golf club.

Yorick is part of a research protocol where they give an infinite number of monkeys an infinite number of golf clubs to set their handicaps.

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

The Figure in the Carpet – The Golden Parachute Continues!

Here are Week 37 @Twitstery tweets of “The Golden Parachute” the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance!

“It’s also proof you haven’t. You looked for evidence of wrongdoing at your medical school. Here it is.” “Yes. We have them dead to wrongs.”

“Your father is our proof. We have to get him back to the States in one piece.” “How? We’re in the middle of their campus on their island.”

“There are no flights off the island until the end of the week and no way we can smuggle a cadaver onboard an airplane. We’re trapped!”

“We deserve better.” “True, but what I’m thinking about is the $85,000 I borrowed to finance my degree. I can’t get it back. I’m trapped!”

“You deserve better.” “True. I can’t pay it off if I don’t get my MD. My future patients will settle for another doctor. They’re trapped!”

“They deserve better.” “True. How horrible the way they desecrated my father’s remains, reducing him to an anatomy cadaver. He’s trapped!”

“His body deserves better.” “True. I think I did well on my midterms. Can I transfer to a stateside med school?” “You’re probably trapped.”

“I deserve better.” “True, but if we can’t get off the island, the rest of it is probably moot anyway.” “True. So how do we get untrapped?”

In my pocket I have David’s business card. I recall the air taxi flight: The noise; the acrobatics; the narrow brush with death; the noise.

The idea of another joy ride on David’s Air Taxi Service and Storm Door Company does not especially appeal to me. What are my other options?

I can’t pay Regi’s student loan. I can’t help her transfer or get her an MD. I can’t bring her father back to life but I can bring him home.

I say “I have an idea but I have no cellphone signal. Can I borrow yours?” “My phone? Who are you calling?” “I know a man with a plane.”

“If you have no signal, how are you tweeting all the time?” “I don’t know.” “Is it possible no one is reading your tweets?” “It’s possible.”

On David’s card a yellow biplane spirals out of the air, dogged by Luftwaffe fighters. His slogan reads “We Get You There and Back Again.”

Dialing gets voice mail. “You’ve reached David’s Air Taxi Service and Storm Door Company. Press 1 for flight info. Press 2 for storm doors.”

I press 1. “OK. You want to fly. If you want to fly right now press 1. If you’re not sure when you want to fly, call back later.” I press 1.

“If you are flying alone, press 1. If you are flying with someone else, press 2. If one of your party is deceased, press 3.” Huh? I press 3.

Why would he ask that? Regi makes a hurry-up motion with her hands. “OK. You’re transporting a cadaver. I can help you make arrangements.”

“David, pick up. This is Arkaby.” “Arkaby? Why didn’t you say so?” “What’s with the IVR on your cell phone?” “What are you talking about?”

“The annoying prompts. You don’t have interactive voice response?” “Nope. It’s just me, my vehicles for hire and, of course, storm doors.”

“Weird. It sounded like the IVR at Body Parts R Us.” “Why are you calling?” “Are you still on-island? I need passage for two with baggage.”

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

Transhumanists Are People Too! – The Golden Parachute Continues!

Here are Week 36 @Twitstery tweets of “The Golden Parachute” the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance!

“I was so busy, first investigating the school stateside. Then the admissions tests and application paperwork. Once I got in, the workload.”

“”All for naught! I’ve discovered nothing except anatomy is hard!” “Regi, this is your father.” “And don’t get me started about biochem!”

“”By the way, who was the woman answering your phone in the middle of the night?” “That’s not important right now. Did you hear what I said?”

“Regi looks at me. “What?” “This is your father.” “Baloney.” She nods toward the cadaver’s erection. “This fellow clearly has been embalmed.”

“”Considering how he split we chose not to have Dad preserved. All that’s left by now is bones and goop.” “Dads make lousy preserves anyway.”

“Regi frowns. Her father, Willum Granger, was cut in two, severed by a tragic combination of fast acting sutures and a call to post ringtone.

“”How can I prove this was your father?” “My Dad had a birthmark on his butt shaped like Philadelphia.” “The city?” “No. The cream cheese.”

“”I don’t know Philadelphia.” Regi lifts up the cadaver. “Let’s take a look. I don’t see a Philly birthmark. This one looks like Houston.”

“”It’s upside down.” “It IS Philadelphia. OH MY GOD!” She drops the body and after pausing briefly throws a modesty cloth over its erection.

“Regi says “I never cared for Philadelphia.” “Houston’s not great either. What was Granger’s connection?” “None. It was just a birthmark.”

“”I may be sick!” “You’re a cop. Get a grip” “No thanks.” Regi peels off her gloves. “How can Dad’s body be intact and be here?” “And why?”

“”Do you finally accept that these are the mortal remains of your father, Willum Granger?” “More like the immortal remains. Isn’t it ironic?”

“”Why is being here ironic?” “He shouldn’t be anywhere.” “You said you didn’t have him embalmed. How do you explain his still being around?”

“”Dad sought immortality through self-cloning and gene manipulation. Maybe altering his DNA made him unpalatable to tissue-eating microbes.”

“”An unexpected consequence of transhumanism.” “Trans what?” “Dad believed in using technology to help humans evolve beyond current limits.”

“”He made himself transhuman to live forever. Now that he’s dead it appears we can’t get rid of him.” “He’s mortally immortal?” “Perhaps.”

“”Transhumanists believe death is not an absolute event. It is a grey area negotiable with modern medicine.” “So the dead can come back?”

“”The point is that reversing the near-death experience lends itself to therapeutic intervention. No one can be reanimated after true death.”

“”Are you sure? Not long ago your father visited my office. He was very animated.” “I don’t know who you saw. It can’t have been my Dad.”

“We look at the cadaver, who may be transhuman, but nonetheless remains inanimate. “Granted, it’s unlikely that I saw your actual father.”

“”He was a convincing restoration and he challenged me to find you.” “And so you have. This cadaver is proof you’ve been chasing shadows.”

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

The Recumbent Dead – The Golden Parachute Continues!

Here are Week 35 @Twitstery tweets of “The Golden Parachute” the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance!

Leaving Yorick to his humerus, I helped Regi up and we walked to the lab next store. “Is that boy peeing in the drinking water?” Regi asks.

“Funny I never noticed that…” Regi turns to the cadaver on the table and freezes. “What is that doing here?” “I thought you could tell me.”

She walks to the table “There are no classes today. Everyone’s still celebrating or sleeping it off. This needs to go back in the fridge.”

“I thought medical cadavers keep forever.” “Nothing keeps forever. This will turn if left out.” “Can’t smell worse.” “You’d be surprised.”

“Why does the University get bodies from a cemetery?” “They can’t.” “Look at the toe tag.” “Founders Cadaver Exchange? That can’t be right.”

“Founders Memorial. That’s where we buried my dad after you closed his case.” “I don’t think so.” “What do you mean?” “Take a closer look.”

“At what?” “Being a Caribbean med school makes it hard to get fresh cadavers. It appears that they traffic in illicit cemetery recyclables.”

“You’re suggesting the University imports illegal cadavers for anatomy?” “If the shoe fits…” “That’s ridiculous. Dead men don’t wear shoes.”

“Each year BMU admits over 1000 medical students who must each cut up a cadaver. How do they provide enough bodies for all those bodies?”

“In addition the University is in perpetual financial distress. They wouldn’t be the first bankrupt business to cut corners to cut costs.”

“You’re saying suffering sustained insolvency, the school supports sundering surreptitiously stolen stiffs?” “I’m not sure I CAN say that.”

“I don’t believe you. Too risky.” “It’s even worse. Does he remind you of someone?” Regi glances at his face. “Corpses all look the same”

“Would it convince you if this wasn’t just you know, some body, but was somebody you know, whose body should still be at Founders Memorial?”

“Arkaby, have you seen a ghost? You’re not usually so tongue-tied.” Coughing out the string, I point to the cadaver. “Take a careful look.”

Regi lifts the head. “Usual anatomy specimen. See the grey skin tone? No red dye in the embalming fluid. Also explains the tumescence.”

“What do you make of the sutures around his middle?” “That is something you don’t often see. He must have undergone some massive trauma.”

Regi isn’t conducting the proper postmortem. Are we certifying her father’s remains or not? What will to take to push her over the edge?

“This body isn’t somebody to you?” “We medical students learn to depersonalize our cadavers.” She lifts the torso. “No sign of… Oh my GOD!”

Maybe she finally makes the connection. “What have you discovered? What’s wrong?” “I just realized. I never returned any of your calls.”

“What?” “All those messages you left me. I never called back.” “That doesn’t matter.” “Except before Hurricane Sandy when I did call you.”

“You called me before Sandy?” “It was late at night. A woman answered and said you were sleeping.” “You’re missing the bigger picture here.”

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

Taking Warm Showers Til the Wee Hours of the Morning – The Golden Parachute Continues!

Here are Week 31 @Twitstery tweets of “The Golden Parachute” the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance

Regi continues “Most classes are run by TAs or ‘expert’ guest lecturers who teach an hour in the morning and then go sailing all afternoon.”

“Our students pass their exams, score well on the USMLE’s, get into residency programs at hospitals back home and go on to become doctors.”

“That would matter if Ross or even St. George’s granted the degree. But Bob Marley School of Medicine? What kind of doctors do they become?”

“As good as one from any mainland medical school.” “That’s what I’m afraid of.” Suddenly camouflaged marines burst into the lecture hall.

Face paint matches uniforms. One shouts “U.S. Marines! Everybody all right? Where are the Cubans?” Regi says “Yow!” and jumps into my arms.

I say “You have the wrong island. You want Grenada in 1983.” “This isn’t Grenada?” “Nope. You missed it.” “Dang! OK men, back to the boat!”

The marines file out. Regi asks “What was that?” “That was either an out of time experience or a troop of Grenadian liberation re-enactors.”

“A what?” “It’s a long story about knock knock jokes and alternate realities.” “I know a knock-knock joke. Knock knock.” “Who’s there?”

“Not me.” “You’re not here?” “Can you tell I’m a bit drunk?” “I didn’t noticed.” “The reason I can do a tour is I just finished midterms.”

“You got drunk after finishing midterms?” “Welcome to Med school. After a night of Jägermeister shots, I woke up this morning still drunk.”

“You didn’t drink before.” “I wasn’t under so much pressure. This studying is a bitch! Anatomy! Biochemistry! Genetics! Pathology! Anatomy!”

Regi pauses to catch her breath. “Did I mention anatomy?” Now I get it. Regi was uncharacteristically affectionate at the campus entrance.

The pressures of medical school study drove her to drink. It also explains why she missed all my subtle cues to pretend she didn’t know me.

I say “I had no idea you wanted to become a doctor.” Regi laughs. “Become a doctor? Not at all. I came here to investigate shady practices.”

“I enrolled to get inside.” “Is your study stress normal?” “Yes and no. I did so well first term they put me in the accelerated program.”

“They’re on to you.” “What?” “Obviously they know you’re here under false pretenses. They put you in that advanced program to tie you down.”

“Between overwhelming course load and alcoholic binges they’ve got you right where they want you.” Regi looks at me like I’m out of my mind.

“Are you out of your mind?” “I’m here to save you.” “I don’t need saving.” “I think you do. Let me take you off island.” Regi pulls away.

She smiles “Just because we’re holding hands doesn’t mean we’re gonna take warm showers til the wee hours of the morning. You hear me?”

“Huh?” “I’ve always wanted to say that! It’s from a Clint Eastwood movie.” I’d pursue Regi’s line of thought, but I don’t feel lucky today.
(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

Skulduggery! – The Golden Parachute Continues!

Here are Week 23 @Twitstery tweets of “The Golden Parachute” the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance

Let’s do this” I say. “Sign here.” He holds up a contract. “What’s this?” “A covenant for our flight time releasing me from all liability.”

“You want me to sign a pre-flight pre-nup?” “Don’t get excited. It’s standard operating procedure. This outing is strictly professional.”

A teen when I first rode a monster rollercoaster, I expected the heart-stopping plummets but not gut wrenching rolls and upside-down twists.

When finally the car pulled to a stop, I breathed a sigh of relief. The terror was over! Then we started up for a second run…backwards!

I don’t know what was worse: Ignorance of what was coming on that first pass, or the anticipation as I experienced the second time through.

After that experience, how bad could an air taxi ride be? Time to find out. I sign the pre-nup and we board the plane. David dons earphones.

The plane engines start up, props spin and the noise is spectacular. “Do I need earphones too?” I ask. “What?” “DO I NEED EARPHONES TOO?”

David says “Cjgafad adf zoedfa adfwe.” “WHAT?” “I CAN’T HEAR YOU. I’VE GOT HEADPHONES ON.” As we taxi toward the runway the noise increases.

I shout “IS IT GOING TO BE THIS LOUD THE WHOLE FLIGHT?” David signals “I can’t hear you.” I hold up my cell phone so he can see my tweet.


At least I think that’s what he says. I still can’t hear him over the engine roar so I try ASL signing “I THINK I DO!” and he slaps my face.

At least I think that’s what I signed. The noise can’t get any louder. He shouts “FASTEN YOUR SEATBELT. IT’S GOING TO BE A BUMPY FLIGHT.”

At least I think that’s what he shouts. Bumpy flight? What’s that all about? As the plane lifts off the noise rises to the point of pain.

We leave Luis Muñoz Marín International Airport and head out over the ocean. I look around the tiny cabin, wondering where the bathroom is.

David holds up a sign. “Please Remain Seated With Your Seatbelt Fastened Until We Reach Our Cruising Altitude” “OK. WE MADE IT.” he shouts.

We’re flying 100 feet over the ocean. “WE MADE THE ISLAND ALREADY?” “NO CRUISING ALTITUDE. HOLD ON!” We veer right to avoid a cruise ship.

“HOLD THIS” he says. I take hold of a rope end, the plane dips down to the water surface and David throws a netbag of cans out the window.

The bag hits the water, dragging along behind the plane. The other end of my rope is attached to the bag. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” I scream.

“I’M CHILLING OUR DRINKS” he replies. “ARE YOU CRAZY? RAISE THE PLANE!” He holds up a sign reading “There is Only One Pilot On This Flight.”

Clearly he has experienced similar objections before. I take out my cell phone, quickly type in a message and press SEND. His phone chimes.

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

“Man of Steel” Isn’t the Only Thing Taking Off! – The Golden Parachute Continues!

Here are Week 22 @Twitstery tweets of “The Golden Parachute” the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance

He’s short and wide and the only thing aviator about him are his army surplus flight goggles and his air of condescension. “You’re a pilot?”

“No, I’m Superman. Do you like my new secret identity? Here’s my card.” I take the card wondering how long it would take to charter a boat.

The card reads “David’s Air Taxi Service and Storm Door Co.” On back is a photo of his plane, a winged yellow taxi:

Studying the image of his blue and yellow twin prop with an apparent nose baggage compartment, I see right through his obvious obfuscation.

“If you really are Superman, why the airplane?” “With a plane like that, you’d better know how to fly.” “Can it make it where we’re going?”

“I fly from here to Grenada all the time. We just have to glide a little farther.” “You fly to Spain?” “That’s Granada. I meant Grenada.”

“You say Grenada, I say Granada. Let’s call the whole thing off.” “OK but it’s your funeral. You’ll never get a flight out of this airline.”

“I’m stuck in here? Why is that?” “Fiat pilots are afraid to fly to your island.” “They just flew their only plane out of here.” “Exactly.”

“Why are Fiat pilots afraid to fly there?” “The airfield sucks for a big plane. It’s just a windy plateau surrounded by mountain peaks.”

“I fear nothing.” “Wait ’til you fly with me. If you don’t believe in a higher power now, you will.” “How high?” “Oh, about 100 feet high.”

“How about I fly you down to Grenada instead? I’m sure you can find something almost as good there.” “Do they have a major medical school?”

“How the hell would I know? They do have a much better airport. I’m sure they have something.” “I’m looking for a medical school student.”

“Aren’t we all? Maybe a Grenada medical school is good enough for you.” “Not likely. Any similarity between schools is purely coincidental.”

“We got a deal?” I consider my options. Remain suitless in Puerto Rico and return home emptyhanded, or I can fly the air taxi. “How much?”

“Strictly on the meter. You coming back?”I thought about it. This shouldn’t take long and it’s on the doppelGränger’s dime.”Of course.”

“Wait time will also be on the meter. Any bags?” “I have no baggage.” “How nice for you, but we’ll need something for ballast in the nose.”

“Hmm. Before I decide, I’d like to see your plane.” “Follow me.” We leave the terminal and walk in the Puerto Rican heat past the airfield.

David’s plane rests in a special spot at the end of the parking lot. It looks a lot worse for wear in person. “Can I see that photo again?”

He holds up the shot of his plane. “The light here is bad.” “Yes, there is light.” “It flies better than it looks.”

“You can get this thing off the ground?” “When the wind is right. You don’t have a suitcase so I need to put a bag of sand in the nose.”

“What happens if you don’t ballast the front?” “The nose rides up and I have trouble seeing.” A boat charter is looking better and better.

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)