"...contact lost..."

Alright so I have this "thing" for Faeries, and the Clavichord.  It's a victim-less crime. Umm, a "Class-C" misdemeanor I think. 

Sort of like eating a whole box of cookies while on a couch watching something stupid on TV. Mmm, that or pigging out on a pizza...by yourself or snorting a bleeping gram of whatever powdered substance available.

Oh those were the daze when I had a body that could take damned near anything! Now I just have to think about that jazz, and I'm calling 911 with chest pains.

Sometimes I just wish I could end this stupid baloney. Something cool with a damned big Bang! Maybe if I could "borrow" a bleeping B-52...heck they're as old me why not go out together.

Hey that old prototype above there is 'exactly' my age!  Yep that's the one I wants for my curtain call! I'd take off from Bangor then go under the wire under the scans, and fly my jolly way to Isis-land!  Granted their territory is shifting, but there's always constant targets available.

Yeah watch as I cut through years of deranged diplomatic bottle-necks!

Amazing what a few doses of "Canned Sunshine" can do! I'll come in slow, and low no fighter opposition. They'll be busy raping their new captives. Target in sight...bombs set for 4000 feet...they go I go.

Just as gawd demands it. 

Banking left 30 degrees.

Altitude...3075...3090 

Call Hell, and tell them there's 200,000 plus head choppers on the way then Heaven a few K of innocents beaming up. Telex Purgatory, and tell'em to get my rooms ready.

Altitude 3096...98...

Payloads active, safety's off..., all lights green.

Altitude 3099.....

...///4000///.....................contact lost...................contact lost......... ... .. .