Flying with Frank

By Stephen John Beccia

Copyright © 2006 by Stephen John Beccia

ONE

“Tell ‘em you have a bomb,” Frank whispered.

Benny looked down his long nose and scowled. “Be quiet, Frank. Someone will hear

you ... and stop pushing; we’ll be in our seats before you know it.”

“How long is it from Logan to LaGuardia?” Frank asked.

Benny laughed. “Most people would say ‘From Boston to New York’, but that’s okay. It

takes only an hour and seven minutes. We’ll have plenty of time to get a cab and make it to

Rockefeller by twelve fifteen.”

“Man, these bags are fucking heavy,” Frank griped.

Benny wiped the beads of sweat from his bald head, “Just be patient, and have your ticket

ready.”
 “Look maybe you should just tell them you have a bomb—”

The wrinkles on Benny’s forehead formed into a V. “Are you crazy! Do you want your

anus probed? Well I don’t. You know how tight security has been since nine-one-one. Now just

shut up and wait like the rest of us.”

Benny and Frank were out of breath; they were late arrivals at the airport due to a heavy

night of drinking and celebrating. A close friend of Benny’s had gotten them an opportunity to

pitch their screenplay at a major production company in New York along with a major movie

deal if accepted. The two partners had spent many years looking for their big break, and they had

a sure-fire idea that this would be their lucky day.

Benny looked over his shoulder, somewhat paranoid, and handed his ticket to an

overfriendly lady. He faked a smile, and walked down the plank to board the plane.

Again, the line of people came to a standstill.

Benny’s stomach started to churn like it always did when he traveled. The dreaded fear of

some psycho terrorist being aboard had always bothered him.

“What the hell is the hold up,” Benny fumed. “If only more people would just check their

bags instead of carry-on …things would be so much smoother.” He wiped his cold and clammy

hands on his slacks, and exhaled loudly.

“Don’t forget about the strollers and the handy cap people,” Frank added.

“Well, I’m not that much of an asshole, Frank. But I tell you one thing ... more people

should take a shower before traveling. Now we have to smell their foul odor circulating through

the stale air for the entire fight. I’ll probably end up sick as usual.”
 “So what ...if we get this deal, nothing else will matter. Maybe if you tell everyone you

have a bomb, less people would board the plane ...more room for us.” Frank snickered

maniacally.

A short, pudgy lady with frizzy black hair looked somewhat frightened when she asked,

“Did you say what I think you said?”

Benny smiled uneasily, and shook his head. “Ah ...oh, I’m sorry. Did you hear us talking?

We were just rehearsing our lines for a play that we are auditioning for in New York.”

The frizzy haired lady looked cross. “Well, you should really watch your choice of words

...especially in an airport.”

Benny smiled, and shrugged his shoulders. The line of passengers began moving again,

and he sighed in relief.

Frank whispered, “Does she know how easy it would be for you to take a CD, break it in

half, and slice her throat. She better watch her fucking tongue ...don’t you think?”

“Shhh! Just keep it down,” Benny muttered, wiping the back of his head. He envisioned

Frank’s thoughts and laughed as he fantasized—

He took out his copy of Ted Nugent’s Cat Scratch Fever and smashed the plastic CD

over his thigh. He proceeded to punch old Frizzy Head in the stomach until she hunched over...

“That will teach you to complain ... bitch!” Benny reached in her yapping mouth, grabbed her

tongue and raked at it with the sharp end of the CD. Her mouth gushed with blood. He held her

meaty tongue up in the air like a proud fisherman with a ten pound bass. A crowd of onlookers

clapped, patted Benny on the back, and applauded graciously—

Frank’s obnoxious voice woke Benny from his fantasy, “Benny, time to move! Wake up!

Bomb! You’ve got a bomb.”

 Benny shook his head and cleared his mind of the gruesome fantasy. He picked a piece of

lint from his blue three-piece suit and asked Frank, “Do you think I should have worn my black

suit instead?”

“You look great, minus the dark circles under your eyes.”

“Great thanks,” Benny muttered. “It was a lot of fun though ...wasn’t it? I mean those

girls were all excited about staring in a motion picture.”

“Ya ... that’s a sure-fire pick up line … ‘You’re beautiful babe. How would you like to

star in a movie?’ … it gets them all the time. That redhead you were with sure knows how to

party. I heard you guys—Christ, it had to be about five-thirty, by the time you settled down.”

Benny’s face turned pink. “Yeah, she was pretty awesome and only twenty-six years old.

Man, I finished off that bottle of scotch by myself, and still managed to get it up all night long.”

“Hope you don’t barf on the plane like you did last time,” Frank giggled. “Oh boy, Benny

... I thought that Texan dude was going to fuck-you-up after you puked all over him.”

Benny grunted. “Well, if the aisle wasn’t full, I could have made it to the bathroom in

plenty of time.”

“See, you should have yelled ‘I HAVE A GUN’ or ‘I HAVE A BOMB’... that will get

them moving.”

“For the love of god, man—keep it down or we’ll never make it on the—”

A large man with a white muscle shirt and a Roadrunner tattooed on his bicep bumped

Benny into the wall and pushed his way to the front of the line.

“How fucking rude,” Frank said.

Benny suddenly felt like turning around and heading back home. “Frank, that’s the guy.

The one from the coffee shop ...remember?”

 Frank acknowledged.

“You were talking about how someone could stick a small pocket knife up their ass and

get onto a plane if they wanted to—”

“Yeah and you weren’t paying attention to me because that guy with the tattoo was

talking to someone on his cell phone. Talk about rude.”

“But you heard what he was saying about not wanting anyone to see him and blowing his

cover. Man the guy was a complete loon. Did you notice the way he ducked behind the

newspaper whenever anyone walked passed him?”

“Yeah, I don’t like his shifty eyes either. He just reminds me of that guy who beat you up

in the ninth grade: Mark Hammond, I think it was.”

Benny rolled his eyes and swallowed hard. “Please don’t remind me of that shit ...” He

sniffed the air and crinkled his nose. “Aw Frank ...was that you?” He waved his hand through the

air and made a sour face.

The frizzy haired lady looked at Benny perturbed. “Mister, you are one sick person—

farting in line. Let’s just pray to god I don’t have to sit next to you.”

Benny’s face was scarlet. Beads of sweat rolled down the side of his head, he could smell

his own perspiration and the stink of a man who had been completely intoxicated by alcohol.
 TWO

Benny watched regrettably while Frizzy Head squeezed her fat ass into seat A, row

thirteen. He looked at his ticket disbelievingly, but no matter how many times he looked at his

seating it read the same: seat B, row thirteen. “Great, Frank, I assume you have seat C—the

window seat.”

Frank began to chuckle. “Aw, Benny boy ...I think she likes you. Maybe she’ll give you a

hand-job under the blankets, and if she doesn’t ...just tell you have a fucking bomb!”

Benny was sweating profusely. As he sat down, his shirt adhered to his wet back

uncomfortably. He faked a smile as he looked at Frizzy Head who was scowling at him fiercely.

“Good thing we chose Jet Blue,” Frank said. “We can just watch TV or listen to music.”

As Benny got himself comfortable, he looked to the front of the plane where the man

with the tattoo was crouched down in his seat; he kept looking around suspiciously and then

darted for the bathroom at the front of the plane. Benny’s eye’s lit up when he saw the man

hiding a black object behind a newspaper, “Did you see that Frank? That guy with the tattoo has

something in his hands!”

“Maybe it’s an Uzi nine-millimeter, and he’s going to blast us all to hell,” Frank laughed.

“Hey Benny, before he takes all the glory, you better stand up and tell everyone you have a

bomb. Times a wasting, pal.”

Benny felt his heart pounding in his throat. His chest was so tight he could hardly

breathe. He found himself crouching in his seat to avoid the spray of bullets when the psycho

tattoo guy came out of the bathroom.

 Frank looked at Benny, “Do you want me to go up there and check it out? The

stewardesses don’t seem to be alarmed.”

Benny’s hand fumbled blindly in his pocket; he pulled out a small, brown bottle of

prescription pills. His hands were shaking. The bottle slipped from his sweaty fingers, and the

pills landed on his lap—thankfully. Benny put all the pills back except for two. “Do you still

have that water, Frank?”

“Why ...what are those?”

“Theses little blue pills are for anxiety. The doctor says they are mild and I can take up to

three at a time.” Benny’s voice sounded strained.

“The bottle of water is back in the trash can. Remember, you told me to get rid of it ...too

many things to take on the plane.” Frank said sarcastically.

Benny scowled, “You are a fucking pleasure to be with, Frank.”

“Just here to make sure you tell everyone you have a bomb.”

Benny pounded his armrest with his fist, “Will you please shut your mouth!”

Frizzy Head grunted, “Excuse me mister, but if you hit me one more time with your arm

I’m going to break it off and shove it up your frantic ass! Now, can you just shut up, and let us

all get settled in here?”

The crowd of passengers around Benny and Frank clapped, hooted and hollered.

Benny wiped his forehead: it was red as a tomato, and ran wet like the Mississippi. He

cleared his throat and said, “Look lady, I’m sorry. I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I’m

just really nervous about flying.”

 Frizzy Head nodded, “Well I suppose it happens to some. But honestly: I don’t think I

have ever seen someone quite as unglued as you.” She held out her pudgy hand. “My name is

Dell. Let’s hope we can have a better flight together.”

Benny smiled, he wanted to reply with, Hi my name is IBM, and then paused when the

Tattoo Man stepped out of the bathroom. Benny and the suspicious character’s eyes met. The

Tattoo Man squinted, and began to approach down the aisle towards Benny. He concealed

something behind a newspaper; Benny was sure it was black and long, and he was certain it was

a gun.

Frank leaned over, “He has a gun, and he’s going to use you as target practice ...”

Benny felt pins and needles traveling through his veins, and then something pinched his

elbow. Again, Frank whispered into his ear, “Don’t let him shoot you. Tell him you have a bomb

and you will blow everyone to kingdom-fucking-come.”

 THREE

The man’s nostrils flared, he snarled as he made his way up the aisle, his bicep’s were

popping out like a sailor, and he looked extremely agitated. He looked at Dell and tried to smile,

“Excuse me madam ...is this gentleman bothering you?”

Dell cleared her throat, she looked taken back, but before she could utter a word the

Tattoo Man spoke again, this time looking fiercely at Benny. “Sir, can I have a word with you at

the front of the plane?”

Benny heard how sporadic his breathing was when he said, “W-w-why, I already have

my seatbelt fastened, and we should be taking off soon.”

“Sir,” the Tattoo Man leaned over Dell and whispered into Benny’s ear, “I’m the fucking

sky marshal, and if you think you are going to try any crazy shit while I’m on guard …guess

again. Now tell me, what’s your problem?”

To Benny’s left he heard frank whispering: “Bomb, Bomb, Bomb—”

The sky marshal stood straight up. “What! What are you saying?”

Benny began to blab, “He was ...I mean ...we ...okay that’s it! I ...have ...a ...b-b-bad case

of anxiety, and I’m really trying to calm down.”

The sky marshal pinched his nose and inhaled, it was almost a snort. “Don’t think for a

minute you will be able to pull any bull-crap on this flight! I’ll be watching you. I’ve been

watching you! Is that clear?”

Benny nodded while the sky marshal returned to his seat. He pulled the front of his

sopped shirt outward and shook it to air himself off. “Oh my god, it’s hot in here.”
 Frank started cracking up. “Ha, ha! You’re a terrorist now. You may as well tell the

world you have a bomb. Just march up to the front, get on the intercom, and say ‘I have a

BOMB!’”

Benny pointed out the window. “You see that big turbine? How would you like it if I

pushed you into that spinning propeller, head first? Slice your body up like deli meat, and paint

your name on the runway with blood? If you don’t shut up, I seriously think I might do that to

you. It’s because of you that I’m on Sky Marshal Dickweed’s list of Americas most wanted,

thank-you-very-much.”

“Aw, come on Benny boy, lighten up. Looks like we are about to take off—”

There was a loud BANG and the lights dimmed, a steady, high pitched beep made the

passengers cringe. At first, there was a loud unified GASP from the passengers, and then nothing

but nervous silence as the captain’s voice squawked over the PA, “Good morning folks, nothing

to be alarmed about. We are running a safety procedure, and we will need a technician to come

on board and check things out. It should only be a ten to fifteen minute delay. I’ll let you know

once things are sorted out. Thanks again for your patients folks, and thank for choosing Jet

Blue.”

Benny looked at his watch and then at Frank. “Jesus Frank, we are cutting it close.

Nelson told us he only had an hour, and then he had to catch a flight to Peru.”

“Maybe we should call him. You can tell him you have a bomb, and if he doesn’t stay put

you’ll tie him to it and drop him off the Empire State Building.”

Benny began to sniff the air like his grandmother did every time she had come for a

weekend visit—“Is someone smoking in here? Frank, Benny, are you smoking …because if you

are, you can find anther house to rent. This house has been in the family for two hundred years
and I’m not going to watch it burn to the ground because you derelicts are smoking in here.”

Man she knew how to ramble—

“Frank, do you smell smoke?”

“No. It’s your imagination.”

Dell reached into her handbag and pulled out a handful of red liquorish, she began to

chomp on it like cow cud. Benny’s stomach churned. He became dizzy. He imagined his face

was the shade of green. Dell poked the liquorish in Benny’s face. “Would you like some to calm

your nerves?”

The sharp scent of Dells perfume made Benny choke.

Frank began to laugh. “You are going to blow chow all over this lady. Dude, you better

go to the bathroom, splash some water on your face, or something.”

Benny burped. He waved off Dell’s nice gesture. “No thank you. Actually I have to get

up. I think …I’m going to be …sick.”

“Oh my! Not on me!” Dell unbuckled, stood up, and rushed out of Benny’s way. He held

his hand over his mouth and rushed to the back of the plane. He chose the bathroom furthest

from his seat, but he wouldn’t even think of going near Sky Marshal Dickweed. He looked back,

only once, and noticed that Sky Marshal Dickweed was charging up the aisle after him. Benny

reached the occupied stall and began to pound.

The door opened, and a boy about thirteen stepped out—apparently, he had a few too

many bean burritos for dinner the previous night. Benny’s eyes watered. His stomach gurgled

sickly. The boy looked at him cross. “Jeez, mister—why didn’t you just use the bathroom behind

you?” He stomped away and shook his head.

 Benny jumped into the unoccupied stall, opened the lid, dropped to his knees, and hurled

for a steady twenty seconds. The smell of his own bile made him gag and vomit again. He

reached up drunkenly, took a few paper towels off the counter, and wiped his mouth. Everything

was miniature around him, he felt like a big man even for a man of five-foot-seven. His knees

were wet with puke and urine splatter. Benny struggled to get to his feet, and flushed the toilet on

the way up.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

“Mister—you need to come out here right now!” It was the sky marshal.

Benny jumped and clutched his stomach as it twisted into knots. He could hear shuffling

feet outside the door. He looked at his pathetic face in the mirror, and brushed the sweat off his

forehead with his arm. Glancing at his watch his adrenaline raced, Jesus, ten-thirty already ...

they better get this damn bird off the ground or we’ll never make the meeting.

KNOCK, KNOCK!

“Who are you talking to in there, sir? You know cell phone use is prohibited while you

on board this plane. This is officer Daniels. We need you to step outside and ask you a few

questions?”

We? He wondered. Was there more than one sky marshal out there? Benny chuckled,

“I’m okay, really! Just a little sick to my stomach, that’s all.” He turned on the faucet, splashed

water on his face, and blinked hard two times. Benny moved closer to the mirror and stared at his

reflection: dark circles shadowed his sunken eyes, his face was unshaven, and his hair (what little

he had over his ears) was disheveled. He stuck out his sickly, white tongue and cringed. The

smell of the Pine-Sol air freshener was burning his throat and soured his stomach.
 Benny just wanted to go back to his seat, back with Dell the frizzy head lady, back with

his partner Frank. He began to question himself—I’ve got nothing to worry about. I’m just

nervous about flying, that’s all. So why does Sky Marshal Dickweed want to talk to me so badly?

Maybe Frank is right: I should tell everyone on this flight that I have a bomb. No! My

screenplay, our screenplay is the most important thing to me. So why would I do something

stupid like that?

 FOUR

The loud, steady beep stopped and, the emergency lights went out, replaced by the

standard overhead lights. BING! Overhead something crackled though the loudspeaker, and then,

“Good morning again, this is captain Dan Wilkes, just checking in with you folks, and letting

you know we should be ready for takeoff in just a few short minutes. It seems like all systems are

go. The technician indicated that cabin door was not fully locked causing the malfunction during

the safety check. We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again. So, sit right back folks, and I’ll talk

with you again when we’re in the air. Flight crew, prepare for take off.”

Benny’s heart raced, he took a deep breath, and opened the door. Sky Marshal Dickweed

was sending daggers into his eyes. Ouch! Stop looking at me, Dickweed. Benny smiled, and

graciously stepped around the marshal.

The sky marshal walked closely behind Benny and spoke through gritted teeth, “I’ve got

my eyes on you mister. If anything happens—when anything happens, even if its not you causing

the trouble—I’m coming after you. You smell like trouble, look like terror on two feet. I know

your type: you’re just like a fart—silent but deadly.”

Benny turned with a fake smile glued to his face, and then took his seat. Dell looked put-

out when she was asked to move her fat ass again. Benny slid into his seat and took a deep

breath. Frank just gave Benny a shit-eating grin, and whispered, “Man you have no balls. Maybe

you should let me do the presentation today. You don’t look so good. I’d like to take that bomb

of yours, Benny, and shove it right up that sky marshal’s ass.”

 Benny’s ashen face grimaced. “Remind me to kill you later.” He looked down at his

watch again. “What the fuck happened to this thing?” He shook his wrist. “It’s already ten-forty-

five. We are never going to make it.”

“Yeah,” Frank replied, “you missed the safety instructions and everything. The

specifically said that you should not have a bomb on the plane at anytime.”

The turbines revved higher as the plane moved down the runway. Benny’s knuckles

turned white while he held the armrests. The plane shook and vibrated as it sped into the air. The

gravitational pull and the arcing of the plane made Benny queasy again; he reached in front of

him and grabbed the complimentary barf-bag. He didn’t puke, but instead he began to

hyperventilate into the bag.

Benny swallowed hard as his ears popped. After a few minutes into the sky, he felt his

heart rate settle. A petite blonde stewardess passed by, and Benny waved somewhat tentatively.

“Excuse me!” He glanced at her nametag. “Shelby, could I get a blanket and a pillow?”

Shelby obviously faked a Barbie-doll smile, and reached overhead into the compartment.

“Here you go sir.” She half-grinned and kept on moving.

Benny wasn’t sure how long he had been sleeping or when he had fallen asleep, but he

was aware of his aroused member under his blanket. Someone was fondling him. He was sure he

was dreaming because Shelby the stewardess was sitting by his side and stoking him. Benny

began to moan, and then screamed as the stewardess turned into Dell. He felt a pain in his side as

he snapped out of his dream.

“Wake-the-fuck-up, Benny!” Frank called. “Put that away! What are you doing?”
 The shocked expression of the frizzy haired lady made Benny shudder. He quickly pulled

the blanket over his exposed stiff rod. He was sure he was going to die, if not of embarrassment

then by the hands of Sky Marshal Dickweed. He could feel the heat radiating off his flush face.

“Can I get some help here?” Dell screamed.

The beady eyed sky marshal jumped to his feet and ran down the aisle. Passengers gasped

and yelled when he pulled a gun from his holster. “Please stay calm, I am an official sky

marshal!”

The mixed smells of perfume and body odor (along with his unsettling nerves) made

Benny vomit into the barf bag. His head was swimming in confusion.

Sky Marshal Daniels leaned over Dell, and pointed the gun into Benny’s chest. Without

moving his pistol he glanced and the lady shivering in her seat. “What is going on here madam?”

“H-he had his pants unzipped ...and, I think I saw his ...you know what!” She began to

sob.

Benny was lost for words; he was hoping Frank would say something in the

uncomfortable silence. It reminded him of an uncomfortable moment with his ex-wife Jessica—

Jessica had gone to Vermont for the weekend on a ski trip with friends while Benny and

Frank searched for new talent for their small independent film they were working on. Work had

turned to pleasure as Benny had taken a liking to a tall brunette named Lisa.

His house was in shambles when his wife walked in unexpectedly at four thirty in the

morning. Beer bottles littered the floor, guys and girls passed in just about every room, chips

and dip and other party assortments were scattered about on tables and countertops, and a

couple that Jessica had never met were screwing on her ten thousand dollar Victorian dinning

room table.
 Jessica removed her shoes and climbed the stairs that led to her bedroom. With every

step she heard moaning, bumping and thumping. Emptiness filled her heart with sorrow as her

imagination ran to endless possibilities. When she reached the landing and peered into her open

bedroom, she had realized her imagination was more like a woman’s intuition.

Benny stopped in mid-thrust. He was completely naked and caught red-handed with a tall

brunette—

“Look, sir—Mr. Daniels—this was a complete misunderstanding. I don’t wear any

underwear. I fell asleep and when I woke up my zipper was down. It must have happen when I

went to the bathroom. I just forgot to zip up, that’s all. Dell, I am really sorry—”

The sky marshal motioned his hand for Benny to stand up. “Sir, I’m going to ask that you

come with me to the front of the plane. You can either make this easy or if I have to, I will

restrain you with hand cuffs.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Benny’s face was on fire. “This is fucking ridiculous! I

didn’t do anything wrong! I’m no terrorist!”

The sky marshal slipped his hands into his pocket and pulled out a pair of metal cuffs.

“Sir, I’m asking you for the last time.”

“Fine!” Benny threw his hands up in the air. “Take me away! Because I’m the bad

guy ...look at me everybody: I’m Benny. I have a b-b …,” he paused. He could hear Frank

whispering, BOMB, BOMB ... tell them you have a BOMB! “I’m Benny and I have a bad guy

reputation you don’t want to mess with! Now, look out.”

Benny sauntered down the aisle; he could feel his face swell with rage and humility.

Passengers muttered curious and incriminating remarks as he passed.

 “Have a seat sir,” the sky marshal said, pointing to an empty front seat. Benny threw his

body into the seat and crossed his arms. He peered up at Shelby the stewardess; she gawked at

him with a disgusted expression. Benny stuck his tongue out like a juvenile delinquent in return.

Great, he thought, now I’m in detention with Mr. Dickweed. Just get me the fuck off this plane,

and get me to Rockefeller center God— please! This is my chance at my big break into the

industry.

There was no reply from God, and Frank was thirteen rows back. Benny was as alone,

and as miserable as he possibly could be. Again, he looked at his watch frantically, and took a

deep breath, Jesus, eleven-fifteen, we should almost be there.

For ten grueling minutes, silent minutes, Benny stared at his watch. His heart pounded

hard in his chest, his stomach rolled over, and he sweated as if he was doing aerobics. The sky

Marshal turned to the strung out man, and asked, “Why do you keep looking at your watch?

What’s so urgent?”

“Look, I know it’s hard for you to understand, but I have a major meeting to attend at

twelve-fifteen. I have been waiting for over twenty years for this opportunity. It’s my big break

at getting into the motion picture industry. And now—well, now time is slipping away, and my

dream is slipping away with it.”

For a moment, the sky marshal just stared at Benny, and then cleared his throat, “You

know, you are by far the biggest piece of shit liar I have ever encountered, as well as the most

suspicious character I have ever flown with. So, just keep your yap shut, and we will be in New

York soon. Then you can get your BIG-BREAK-ASS off this plane, and I hope to God I never

see you again.”

 Benny’s adrenalin went through the roof, his flustered mind searched for cohering words,

his body began to shake as he looked at the biggest prick he had ever seen since John Holmes,

“Where the fuck were you on September eleventh asshole—”

Benny’s head snapped back. A burst of purple stars blinded his left eye. His ears whistled

with a high, piercing tone. The terrifying pain—as a result of a cheap right hook—made Benny

shudder. His eye immediately swelled up. Tears of blood trickled down his cheek. He sobbed

like a baby. “You asshole! I’m …going to sue you …for every last penny you have. Did

everybody see what this guy did? He assaulted me!”

The passengers on the plane were silent. Terror and panic had muffled the normal chatter

of an everyday flight.

Shelby rushed to Benny’s needs with a bag of ice and a towel. She grimaced at the sky

Marshal. “I agree this man has been a little out of line, but there was no need of violence.”

The beady eyed sky marshal looked firmly into the blue eyes of the stewardess. “Look,

Shelby, this man made a threat that could have put this flight in grave danger. I just did what any

other marshal would have done—”

BEEP! It was the captain. “Good morning again, folks. Please be aware that the fasten

seatbelt sign is on as we begin our descent into LaGuardia Airport. The current temperature is

fifty-six degrees …”

Benny held the ice-pack firmly to his swollen eye, and looked at his watch again. “This

has been the most miserable flight I’ve ever been on thanks to you mister. What am I suppose to

say to my agent when we arrive at the studio? Huh? That is if I ever make it there.”
 The sky marshal ignored Benny. He picked up the Boston Globe from the seat beside

him, opened it up, and began to read. As far as sky marshal Daniels was concerned: Benny was

invisible.
 FIVE

When the wheels screeched along the runway, Benny let out a sigh of relief; he noticed

his white knuckles as he clutched his knees upon landing and loosened his grip slightly. His eye

throbbed but he could care less, in just a few minutes he’d be off the plane, far away from the

lunatic sky marshal, and on his way to the dream of a lifetime.

Just have to get back to my seat, Benny thought, get my brief case and I’m out of here.

Maybe Frank will bring it with him.

The plane move slowly down the runway, Benny’s eyes where obsessed with the time

and kept glancing at his watch every few seconds. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, his mother

use to say. Yes you have your lunchbox Benny …it’s in your hand. Yes, you’ll be on time for

school. Yes, the glasses have been washed. Benny was obsessed about anything and everything

that was important to him. And now getting to that meeting on time was the only thing fueling

his mind and body.

The plane docked, and the fasten seat belt sign had turned off. The sky marshal put his

arm across Benny’s chest when he tried to stand up. “Oh no, mister …you’re not leaving yet.”

Benny clenched his teeth, and curled his hand into a tight fist. “You get your goddamn

hands off me or so-help-me-god you’ll be sorry.” Benny wasn’t exactly sure what he would do to

a big ape like the sky marshal, but it just sounded good and mean.

Benny sat impatiently, looking humiliated while the plane filtered out. Passengers

snickered and gave him dirty looks as they passed by. He even heard a youngster, about the age

of eight, say to his mother, “Hey, mom, is that the terrorist?”

 For Benny, there was nothing worse than the aroma of cheap perfume, stinky aftershave,

and old people. He could smell everyone’s foul stench as they passed by; it twisted his stomach

into a frenzy of turmoil.

Fuck! I’m not going to make it, Benny thought as he continued to obsess at the time. It

was eleven fifty-three. His nerves twitched. His breathing had shortened. His big break was

slowly fading away. A steady flow of perspiration dripped from his brow. His hands shook

uncontrollably. The world that he once loved was crashing down on him. What bothered him the

most was being held hostage by an arrogant and cocky sky marshal.

Finally, the plane was empty except for Frank, Benny, the sky marshal, and the crew.

Benny looked desperate, stressed out. He scowled at the marshal. “If you’re done tormenting me,

may I please get the fuck outta here?”

The sky marshal nodded. “Good luck Mr. Big Break.”

Benny marched back to his seat, and grabbed his briefcase—the brown worn leather bag

that he stole from a old man sleeping on the subway, the one that told him to slice the mans

throat and let the old bastard bleed to death from Commonwealth Ave to South Station; the same

bag that gave him the idea for his presentation at Red Star Studios, and the one that told him how

to make a bomb out of simple household items. He looked at Frank, and whispered, “You were

right. They need to know whose the boss, and who has a bomb—fuckers!”

“That’s right, Benny. Tell them you have a bomb. Go get Sky Marshall Dickweed’s gun

and shot him full of holes, run out there and tell everyone to check their goddamn strollers and

luggage before they get on the plane. They are the one’s, Benny—the evil one’s! They’re out to

get us, and they have to pay. Fuck ‘em up, Benny boy. Just like you did to your grandmother

when you chopped her up and cremated her in her very own fireplace. Just like the manager at
Subway for giving you mushrooms on your sandwich when you specifically told him you were

allergic, and it made you sick for days; I can only imagine his face when he turned the key in his

ignition and his fucking Corvette blew him to kingdom-come. Oh, and don’t forget the time

when we were twenty four, and you held my head under a tub filled with water until my face

turned purple. What was that all about? Oh yeah: I took the last beer in the fridge. And after you

killed me, I promised to haunt you the rest of you life. BOMB, BOMB, BOMB!”

Benny held the briefcase close to his chest. His heart pumped like a piston; he felt the

same anxious excitement as he had the night prior, when he met the sexy twenty-six year old,

seduced her, had wild sex with her all night long, and then killed her in the morning. His hands

were cold and clammy. His head spun with obscure visions that were distant and dreamlike.

Benny took baby steps as he walked off the plane. A group of security guards slowed up

the line of exiting passengers causing commotion and confusion. Benny looked at his watch:

Twelve-o-one. His temples throbbed, heat rushed up his body, and his face went flush Something

gurgled in his throat, and Frank whispered for the last time, “Tell them you have a bomb.”

Benny took two steps to the right. A crowd of exiting passenger’s greeting their families

and friends blocked his way. He side-stepped left, right, back, front, but no matter what way he

turned: he was trapped. A vision raced to his spinning mind. He remembered a time when his

beloved mother scolded him—

You’re a failure Benny…no good. You should have gone to law school like your sister…

look at her—an accomplished lawyer making six figures living in an upscale apartment in the

city…and you—living at your grandmother’s rent-a-wreck motel home. I’m surprised you don’t

have sicknesses and diseases from all those rats running around. Stop trying to live this dream

of producing a play or what-ever-it-is-that-you-do with all that writing. It seems so pointless,

senseless, and stupid. You are a goddamn slacker, and a no good slouch! Now, get off your ass,

and go find a job—a real job!

Benny laughed while he slammed his mother’s head into oblivion with a large kitchen

skillet. Over and over, he assaulted her while brain matter splattered on him, the wall, and

covered the skillet with raw flesh. A pool of blood ran around his feet and into the heating ducts.

He sat there for many long hours reveling in his peace. No one could stop him now!

And now, he was late for the meeting. He was stopped by the crowd. To make matters

worse, the sky marshal whispered something into one of the security guard’s ears. Shit he’s

talking about me, Benny imagined. Gotta get this fucking line moving! He found it harder to

breath. His chest was tight. Sporadic thoughts rolled through his brain: They’re going to detain

me and ask me questions and make me miss my meeting and they are going to ask about my

family—the ones that died mysteriously and disappeared. They are not going to let me get my

meeting, and then I won’t be able to have my screenplay read by the top movie producers in New

York! God, Frank, you are so right—

Benny raised his old leather briefcase in the air, and screamed: “I HAVE A BOMB! Get

out of my way or I’ll blow us up!”

The crowd broke into pandemonium. People shuddered, fell to the ground cowering,

while others ran wild, trampling whoever was in their way. A mother tried helplessly to save her

child from the panicked crowd, until she was trampled underfoot. Children cried. Grown men

cried. The rowdy crowd punched, kicked and fought to find shelter from the mad man with the

bomb.

Benny laughed like a lunatic.

The airport security guards drew their weapons on Benny.

 Sky Marshal Dickweed didn’t cower, he walked slowly toward Benny with his pisto

drawn.

Benny observed his predicament, and waved the briefcase frantically over his head. “I’ll

do it! Put the guns down or I’ll send you all to hell on the bomb express—”

“Shoot!” Sky Marshal Dickweed shot Benny in the right shoulder.

Gunfire blasted the mad bomber. The explosion of bullets rang out stifling the crowd.

Benny’s body staggered backwards from the force of the oncoming bullets, he did his best to

stand from the onslaught. Chunks of flesh and blood sprayed and covered the nearby crowd.

Benny’s eyes rolled back exposing the whites, his knees buckled and the briefcase fell to the

floor spilling out its contents: Four rolls of toilet paper, a Zagnut candy bar, and a round device

with wires and a small display window filled with red flashing numbers.

The sky marshal took two steps toward the odd looking device and then his world went

grey. A roar of fire and crumbling bricks filled the building. Terror and horror raged through the

airport terminal. The explosion was heard for miles. A plume of fire and smoke shot up through

the glass roof of the airport and filled New York with another dreadful memory of terrorism.

Frank’s ghost walked through the blast zone and disappeared for good.

Somewhere along his ride to hell, Benny laughed as he heard the loud explosion that

ripped the airport to ruin. Benny’s soul watched the Sky Marshal’s body disintegrate into

millions of pieces, and he smiled happily.

Frank’s evil words had haunted Benny for twenty-three years. But no more will he hear

those six haunting words: Tell them you have a BOMB!