George left for Guam this morning on the 747 out of Maui.
He took a cappuccino with him that he bought in Kahului.
Frothy foam jumped into his eye when turbulence hit over
Wake and he screamed at the flight attendant to bring him
another bag of Macadamias but she poked him in the other
eye and said “Ha! I’ve blinded you forever!” and walked to the
rear of the plane with one stiletto slanted at a 45 against the
crismon carpet that ripped and tore as she walked like an
Egyptian mummy pushing the tray of booze beside her.
Before he knew it they landed at Won Pat as he regained
vision in the scorched cornea where European espresso
dripped from his pupil like a leaky Chevy crankcase.
“Change me! Change me!” cried an old man in first class
with the tin foil diaper filled to the brim as the blindfolded
pilot waived to all who exited with haste and hassle.
George didn’t know why and he didn’t know when,
for sure he knew, he’d never fly Starbucks again.