Passenger Manifest

    Buick:  "If you hate becoming hooked or interested in a short story and then have it all fly by too fast, then you may want to return after i have revised and expanded this.  Things get moving VERY fast after the introductory nonsense.  Probably too fast, in fact like a Dick and Jane story.  I need to do a lot of expanding and fleshing out of the text.  But if you don't mind having the whole story fly by you now, then go ahead read (I thrive on response and interaction, so thank you, yes please.)




The passengers took their seats. 
                So many people...  families... couples..  a virtual  fruit salad of  mixed demographics.                       
        A little boy kept looking back over at Claudia smiling.. watching her....  while his mother spoke from her seat to a flight attendant.
              oh my god is he looking at my cellulite  .. gee-sussss. 
            her legs were crossed fish-white and creamy as she adjusted her coach-class seat belt.  she really had an outstanding figure, but  couldn't wait to smooth out the backs of her thighs with some diet and excersize once she arrived at her destination, which was her ex-husband's Malibu estate (although she now lived in a small apartment).

          she smiled at the boy kindly...  and shifted over one leg over  ....  go away you little puke.
            She certainly hoped that this airplane trip would not take very long at all.
          Claudia looked around at the plane interior.  Something else, it was fantastic, maybe it was worth the ticket price
            The boy suddenly pointed to her..  and spoke ....  "the italian englishman is the devil incarnate!!'
            "Wh... what??!?'
     
                the steward came down the aisle and took the passengers'  curiously fancy theater-style tickets from them and tore them.  For some reason he was not giving back the stubs.     
           
                The man sitting next to her was quite charming really.
          "So what do you think of the linear aspects of nuclear plutology?"
          She could tell this guy was trying to impress her.  As far as she knew, there was no such thing as 'nuclear plutology'.  But she decided to play along.  After all .. it was a hella long way to Los Angeles from Detroit.. even by plane.
            blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah         
  "I need to use the restroom, I'll be right back okay?"
              "Mmk babydoll.  I'll wait!" grin 
            The sweat and grease on his forehead was carrying down to cause his thick glasses to slide toward the end of his nose.

          Claudia lifted the toilet lid and slowly slid her silk panties down. 
       
  The seats were vacant and empty and cold to the touch.. why was there no one on this plane. No one at all. Her seat was utterly cold.  Even the seat where the man she had been talking to felt cold, if not frozen, to the touch. She tried to sit down in her seat and her butt froze almost instantly.  'Geezus!' 
  But it seemed the point was mute.  The question that begged to be answered was "Where in the hell did all the other passengers go to??!!?" 
  Claudia got up and headed toward the pilot's cabin,. hoping that she would bump into a stewardess on the way, if nothing else, and ask just what the hell was going on.
                Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder from behind.
                        "May i ask to see your passport, miss Claudia."
            "HAHH!!'...  oh my GOD!!  . . . 
          "Sorry, M'am, did I startle you."
            It was the steward.  The same one who had taken everyone's tickets earlier.
          "Where are all the passengers?!?" 
        "May i please check your passport, M'am?"
                  Claudia looked into his eyes strangely.  "How... how do you know my name is Claudia?  Just a moment."
                  She felt around in her trenchcoat pockets.  It was missing.
              "The Italian Englishman is the Devil incarnate, M'am."
            Claudia finally stopped and locked eyes with him.  "What did you say?"
                He smiled.
              "Why... wh...  why did you just say that?"
                  She continued to search for her passport.  Where the hell was it?!? 
                  Suddenly she realized something strange.
                The only thing she was wearing was the trenchcoat.. over a floral print bikini.
              "S...... Something is not right about this.  This is not what i wore when i left home this morning!"
             
            This was just not right.  Did someone sedate me??  This is not right I am getting off this plane NOW!
                 
    "Beware,  miss Dievers! ... the Italian Englishman is the devil incarnate!!"   
                 
                      Claudia bolted for the door...  losing one high heel shoe..

                                   
                Clack, *soft*, clack!, *soft*, clack, *soft*, clack! . .  Claudia hurredly walked through the airport..
              hundreds of people milling around ..  every race, background, and nationality . . .
                the irregularly-angled triangle of the back of her floral bikini tightly slicing up into her derriere each step..
                A thug with an 80's boombox began to follow and heckle her.. 
          "Rockin' dat bikini .. ohhh misses, wow...    shake it baby.  heh, heh.  clap clap."
                Soon two of his friends joined in.
            leave me alone you ignorant bastards. 
            "booty shakin' no bacon baby*
              * boomerang cheeks* ~
            "will you please stop f***ing following me!!"
          She finally abruptly stopped and turned around to confront him.
            "Will you please stop following me?!?"
                  He chuckled/laughed.
            "Will you PLEASE . . .  stop . . . f***ing . . . FOLLOWING ME?!?!?"
            Claudia hated this shit.  Just get to the damn terminal.  go, go, go, get my refund, get out of here!  so far this day has  SUCKED!!
          And now she had to use the restroom/diarreah too. 
            "Oh my god.  I cannot believe this."
              She turned to look around for a restroom sign. 
            She saw a man standing behind some others in the crowd, waving his hands, as though beckoning to her.
            A punk in a leather jacket with stubble and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth 50's greaser style cackled at her.
              Suddenly she began to realize that these people were all from the past....
            None of them looked like they were from the year 2007.   
              One of the three thugs was following her again.
            "Geezus, get awAY from me!!  Who ARE you people!!"
              She started walking faster... faster . . .
              The man was still back there waving his hands, trying to say or signal something to her...
                now he began waving his arms... 
   
      .      The thugg came walking up beside her.  "heheh.."  He was waving a big drug syringe around.
              "Please . .  pl . .  ease . .  i thought .  i . . told you to . . go . .  aw - - - - "
              He suddenly grabbed her arm and -S K E W E R E D it.  With the syringe.
              " H - a A  A I G H H  G GHGH R GH ! "
              The needle protruded out the other side of her forearm.. having completely penetrated the muscles   
            "Oh my God W h y . . . .  why . did you . .  do . .  that . . . "
            "heheheheheh!"  He went skipping away humming a childish sounding tune.

                Claudia continued to haphazardly walk and stumble through the seemingly neverending airport terminal...
              The blood from her arm was leaving a trail of pretty red dots.
            She finally began to run .. 
              A vagrant lying on the floor tiles reached up and grabbed her leg.             
                "lady...... hey.. .  lady . . .  the italian englishman is the devil incarnate! ' . .
                He turned into a skeleton as he spoke.....
              "Ha i IA I I  a  GG h H !H H H! H !! "  Claudia kicked it away.
            she kept moving.....  moving . . . .  .
              and finally.....  she saw some sort of exit door . . .
                *EXIT*
              Thank Christ . . . . .
              It was an old looking oak door....  with what looked like an antique opaque diamond-cut glass knob..
                She hurredly reached out for it....
              "Thank . . . . God . . . .  thank . . . . thank . .  god . . "
                She reached out to open this door...  seeking only to get out of whatever insane dream she was in . .
                But she had a new problem.   
              "Hey, lady!"  smile
              It was the 50's greaser. 
                  again.
                  "Goin' somewhere baby??  I just thought I'd do THIS!"
              He flicked out a rusty old switchblade and stabbed her in the midsection with it.
                Claudia looked into his eyes...  as if asking why . . .  for what seemed like an eternity. 
                "heheh what's wrong lady, " he asked.
                " h h h h h h  ~ . . " 
            blood quickly began to darkly dampen the front of her blue silk dress...
                    which she had not been wearing a moment earlier . .

              *QUICK FUN FACT*  this dress had actually been used in a crime in 1943..  was actually worn by the wife of a south american dictator while she stood by his side and watched him execute three innocents.  it had made its way to the u.s. and had been used incidentally to smuggle stolen gems from an after-hours jewelry store heist in 1963.

          "somebody...... h h  h . . h . . .hhhelp . . . . . ." "    She barely managed to open the oaken door.
                There was the steward again.  From the airplane.
            "Evening, M'am!  May i see your passport??"
                "n . .  .. .. nnn nnnnnhhh" 
            He began choking her slowly... with two cold, icey hands....
            " hh h h h  ~ .  . . "  ~  grin skeletal grin ~
            " h ch h K l l c h ! ! ~ " 
              "The Italian Englishman is the Devil incarnate!!!" he grinned.. with what looked like the expression of a child.
                He continued to choke her...  until her knees began to buckle . . .
            A pretty dark yellow puddle began to form on the floor
              Her blue eyeshadowed eyelids . . . moist . . . fluttered . . . like butterflies..             

               
            "Mr. Sellers....  we have to take you to the ward now.."
              'Wh... what are you talking about..'
              leave me alone you ignorant bastards.
          "Why it's almost time for your appointment with Dr. Immershickel.
                  He had been staring at the wall for a half an hour now .. in a catatonic trance.. ..
          "What are you.. I . ." 
                He looked at the clock. It was almost time.. true . .                 
                   
                  "Was your mother Italian, Mr. Sellers? "  Dr. Immershickel asked. ..  looking at th epaper/forms etc...
                "Why, yes . . . . "
                    "That is interesting..  and what about your father?  if i can/may ask?" ..
                "I have my step-fathers last name..  my real father was of an English descent.. ."
              "Well, that's interesting ! ~ " . . 
                            . . . . . . . . .