I’ve had it with these motherfucking snacks on this motherfucking plane!
So, okay, there’s this flight attendant, and you know what he’s tired of? Everyone complaining. It’s like, they’re still on the tarmac, and one lady’s pulling his sleeve, like “could you do something about that baby?” And he’s all “sure, ma’am, I’m on it,” but he’s thinking “WTF?” Like, what does she want from him? He’s going to tap the kid on the shoulder, all “excuse me, sir, but your howling is bothering other passengers. Would you mind keeping it down?” Life doesn’t work that way. Babies on planes don’t work that way. Nothing works that way.
There’s some guy in the back, and he could use a drink. He doesn’t know what kind, and he’s dithering and pointing, and it’s like, dude. You’re on a plane. You drink ginger ale or tomato juice or tiny-bottle booze, and those are your options. Pick one.
There’s a lady eating kippers and a man scratching his crotch. There’s a kid who keeps texting, and he’s told her ten times, “time to turn that off.” And she does for five minutes, then she’s at it again—and the defiance is one thing, but the eyerolling, fuck, and that adolescent tchah—that phone belongs down her throat.
Someone’s just puked.
There’s an emotional support possum.
Our flight attendant, his trousers aren’t working right. His flies keep coming down, and he’s heard a zillion variants of “flyin’ low, Joe,” and why does no-one have a twist-tie or a keyring, anything he could use to hook the zip?
Some dumbfuck opens his peanuts. He does it all wrong, and it’s a peanut grenade. And our man, he takes one in the eye. He’s staggering around the aisle, clutching his face, and what does he hear?
“I’ve had it with these motherfucking snacks on this motherfucking plane.”
This guy throws his peanuts. Someone throws one back. A food fight breaks out. Everybody’s, like, kung pao fighting. That possum’s started biting. It’s all a little bit frightening. There’s been an alien sighting. O-ho-ho-ho! O-ho-ho-ho!
…yeah. Sorry about that. Sometimes, I have nothing to say.
RG Double Ghost 
This is gold. Thank you for making my morning.))
After getting to the bit about the possum, I couldn’t resist:
https://imgur.com/a/ZXQelYp
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You’re quite welcome!
Your link, however, appears to be broken.
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Oops, this should work: https://imgur.com/a/DTNXMJc
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Hahahahahahahahaha! That is one ENORMOUS possum! But, of course, being an emotional support possum, it WOULD bite whoever deserved it.
You know, every time I read a story of horrible airline conduct, from now on, I’m going to picture an avenging possum making things right (then being carried off by an unimpressed flight attendant).
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I thought I drew a life size possum… It’s disappointing to know they’re smaller than that.
Impossible not to love an emotional support possum though, there are so few animals that would be worse at that job (I kinda cheated though and drew the ratty South American one, Australian possums are way cuddlier, but then it isn’t as funny).
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They’re pretty tiny. Maybe a little larger than squirrels, but not by much. You could pick one up one-handed, though you probably shouldn’t.
Possums are just tiny balls of stress and teeth. Even looking at one is enough to make most people a little nervous. Like the possum’s fear is contagious, conveyed through its perpetually shrieking mouth. Yes. Worst emotional support animal ever.
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I actually tried drawing it with its mouth open, but that turned out too creepy. “Balls of stress and teeth” is a perfect description.
Although possum mothers with a train of tiny possum in tow holding each other by the tail are always adorable.
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You know what else does that? Shrews. They bite onto each other’s tails and scutter along in lines. It’s hard to be creeped out by anything, after seeing it do that.
I’ve always liked vermin-type animals. Maybe because they’re all tiny and vulnerable, and then everybody hates them: you kind of have to sympathise.
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Shrews in general are hard to see as being creepy. Even the usual European ones who lose out to Elephant shrews in terms of looks. Too tiny and vulnerable looking.
By the way, I can’t be typing too much since my meh day just took a mildly gross turn for the worse since I discovered that the friendly and healthy looking cat I petted a few days ago didn’t, in fact, belong to anyone, and what was worse, carried scabies. So here I sit with my hands covered in anti-mite cream, waiting for the itching to subside, and typing at the phone with one, least greasy finger. Fun.
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They do have their venom, but even the word “shrew” suggests something tiny and adorable.
I’m sorry to hear about your scabies infestation…ewwwwwwwwwww! Anything itchy is the worst. The absolute pits. I had shingles a few years ago, and the itching was so unbearable I got almost no work done for a month.
You should go soak your hands, and try not to think about how much they itch.
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Wait I thought that was just a mediaeval superstition, like they have about chameleons in Africa.
Luckily, they sell anti-scabies cream in practically every pharmacy, unfortunately the instructions say not to wash it off for 8-14 hours. The itching has subsided almost immediately, I’m just stuck with perma-greasy hands and can’t do much anything.
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What, the venom? No, it’s true. I don’t think it’s harmful to humans, but shrews (some species, at least) are venomous.
They should sell that stuff with gloves, maybe, so you could put it on, wear the gloves, and NOT spend the rest of the day greasing up your home.
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Thank you! That’s a great idea. I would be able to eat, though not type. If I won’t be replying for a while after this, means I found gloves.
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Ha! Best of luck in your search!
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