Are we there yet?

"Mommy, mommy. Look at me. Mommy. Look, I'm kicking the seat."

"Yes, dear. I see," says mommy.

"Can you tell him to stop that?" the kicked-seat man says.

"Shut up, old man. Typical man, right mommy? Mommy, look at me. I'm still kicking."

"That's nice, dear," mommy says. But mommy only looks at her iPad. She's reading stories on an obscure site called Vocal.

[Pause for reader applause.]

"Mommy, I have to pee. Take me to the bathroom."

"The seatbelt light is on, honey. We'll have to wait."

"I have to peeeeee. Peeeeeepeeeee. Peepee time. I'm gonna pee everywhere right now."

"Okay, let's go, my love."

Mommy and son walk down the aisle toward the bathroom. A stewardman in uniform stops them.

"Excuse me, ma'am. The seatbelt light is on. Please return to your seats," says the uniformed man.

"My son has to peepee right now. He's going to pee everywhere. God, typical man. What next? Are you going to man assault us?" says mommy.

"Nooooooo," the uniformed stewardman's voice trails off as he fades and disappears, willed from existence by mommy's righteous fury. The path is now clear for mommy and son.

"Oh no, where's my son?" Mommy looks all around her. She can't see her son. "Kidnapper on the plane? Even planes are not safe from bad people."

"Mommy, out here. Look at me. I'm on the wing. I'm dancing on the plane wing. Ouch, the engine is hot," son says. He dances on the wing. It's a fancy jig that only a cheeky lad could pull off.

"That boy's dancing on the wing. Everyone, look," says the kicked-seat man. "Twerk for us!"

Many passengers move to the left side of the plane to look out the window. A man in hip-hop clothing beatboxes. The son twerks on the wing.

"I always knew my boy was a star," says mommy.

In the plane's cockpit, alarms sound.

"Captain, wake up. The plane is off balance. There is a heavy load on the left side," says the co-pilot.

The captain opens his eyes. "I will see if something is up in the cabin," he says. He picks up a large glass bong and lights the marijuana nug in the bowl. He inhales deeply and holds for a moment. "Okay, I'm ready," he says, exhaling smoke.

The captain walks into the cabin. He sees that most passengers are on the left side of the plane.

"Passengers, you have unbalanced the plane. Move back to your seats," he says.

The beatboxing hip-hopper stops beatboxing. "Not now. There's a boy twerking on the wing," he says. He resumes beatboxing.

The captain looks out a window. "That is not good. Where is that boy's guardian?"

"That's me, captain. I'm so proud. My boy is so talented," says mommy.

"Please tell him to return to his seat. It's too dangerous."

"Aw, just a little longer. He'll be fine. You're a handsome captain, and I'm a single mommy. I'm a MILF. Maybe we can date."

"I'm sorry, but I'm a gay captain. You are not a MILF to me, just an M. Your son will not be fine. It's very windy on the wing. There are physics reasons why it's dangerous. Have you heard of Newton?"

"Oh, god, stop with your mansplanations. A man who only loves men? Ugh, I wish I never met you!"

"Noooooo, wait, I'm the capta—" his voice trails and cuts off as he fades and disappears from this dimension.

The beatboxer stops beatboxing and glares at mommy. "Don't do that to pilots. Now we're going to crash. That's the only pilot," he says.

"No, stupid. Another professional wrongman. There's an autopilot and a co-pilot. Even if there are no pilots, my son can fly the plane," mommy says.

"Your son is only good at twerking. Plane flying is a real skill. He can't do it."

"Don't tell me what my son can do. He can have dreams. You just want to control everyone. I'm going to take a nap." Mommy puts her head down on the tray table and dozes.

The plane nosedives and crashes into the ground. It explodes and bent, mangled corpses are thrown everywhere. Mommy's ex-husband cries at the crash site, having lost his son and ex-wife.

Mommy wakes up.

"Oh dear, that was just a dream. I'm still on the plane. We've been flying this whole time. From when my son was kicking that seat to now, we've been in flight the entire time," mommy says.

[Pause for the reader or contest judge to absorb and understand that the contest requirements are still met.]

A voice speaks through the PA system: "Hello, everyone, this is the co-pilot. One of the engines is failing because a boy dancing on the port wing threw his inflight meal into it. I'm a new co-pilot and don't really know how to fly this thing, so..."

In a flash of white light, an angel materializes at the front of the plane cabin. He has beautiful, long, golden hair, shining white robes, and white feathery wings.

A priest passenger wearing a clerical collar stands up from his seat and points at the angel. "An angel has come to save us from crashing due to lack of a pilot!"

The angel speaks: "Hi, I'm Jimmy. I'm an angel of death. So, speaking to the young mother, that was actually not just a dream. That was a premonition. That's going to happen. It just hasn't happened yet. We are still in flight currently but heading for a nosedive and a crash."

"An angel of death? But you're a beautiful white angel," mommy says.

"Yeah, I don't really wear a black cloak and have a skull face and carry a scythe. Angels all look basically the same, whether it's a messenger, angel of death, whatever. White wings, golden locks, handsome, all that stuff. I know, I know, it's confusing. I tried bringing it up to God, but he doesn't take criticism very well."

"That's true. It's in the Bible," the priest says.

"Yeah, this guy knows what I mean."

"So we'll go to heaven?" the priest asks.

"Okay, well, the Bible gets that part wrong. The Buddhists were closer on that part with the whole reincarnation thing, but not with the judgment based on karma and morals followed by placement into different animals and realms. It's much more rigidly ordered than that. You just kind of go down the list of species. Dogs always get reincarnated as alligators. Humans always get reincarnated as black rhino. There aren't many of those left, though, so the purgatory waiting list for dead humans is really long. Sorry about that. Anyways, you'll find out in, oh, about five minutes."

Jimmy the angel waves his hand all around dramatically.

"Shoop, shoop, shoop. Got all your souls now. So that's all set. I'd love to hang out and chat until the crash, but I've got somewhere to be. The angel life is busy, you know?"

The angel dematerializes.

THE END