Hey! How goes it? Have you ever seen a passport? It has your name and where you're from. Matt's got a passport. Matt Fiona, from L.A. But if you don't like him why don't you go read something else? Bam.
-Los Angeles, California
The extremely thorough pat-down he had received and the leaving of his only home to a creepy villa in London had yet to improve his mood. He was walking, or rather dodging through the thick masses of crowd, with as much difficulty as a slender 14 year-old can.
After several long minutes of arguing with the clerk, he finally wrestled himself a ticket, on account of his runt-ish appearance.
Soon there were increasing crowd difficulties, then he got to the entrance for his plane. Suddenly, a none to obviously obese woman's arm knocked his favorite book out of his hand. But it was too late, he was pushed in through the doors, staring at his book as though he was losing his only child.
"Please! Let me go back!" he moaned.
"Pha, you're lucky you get to come at all, and in business class! I could never afford that," an obnoxious flight attendant shoved him into more molasses, where he was roughly pushed to his seat.
For the first time he looked around him. An about six-year old girl was sitting in the seat next to him. Her bewildered eyes were gaping at an Asian man sitting in the row across from them. He was reading a book, but all wrong. His eyes moved up and down the columned pages and he turned the left page instead of the right.
On his other side a twig was sunbathing next to the window. He was 1-D from the side. There was a magazine in his lap and he was on the cover. Slim Magazine, How to be the skinniest man alive, and the sexiest. Matt thought, though it has yet to be discovered, we are working on it, the most delaying fact is that our subjects keep dieing from malnutrition. Matt chuckled inside his head. He was definitely getting better.
***
It wasn't in his bag. Matt tugged at his hair. The amusing events had made him forget about it. Paranoia of the lost boy. The greatest book in universe. Though incredibly short, it was still very useful to him. He was kind of dyslexic, so a short book was best.
The book was about a boy who loses his home and goes crazy. Matt was into dark stuff like that.
After finding that he was in major risk of severe hair loss, he decided he'd better get his book soon.
He rushed from his seat and tried to walk out of the business section, but another thoroughly obnoxious flight attendant halted him.
"Where do you think you're going, little guy?" he snorted little guy to mock the boy's puny size in comparison to his.
"Uh, I think I'm going back to my seat."
"And right you are to do so." he patted the boy on the back intentionally hard and made him swing upon the cinnamon stick man. He then scrambled back into his seat.
***
About an hour or so later of brooding he tried again. His intensions were to get to the cockpit and beg them to let him go back. He didn't really expect success but it kept his mind off the loss.
He checked to make sure the burly ape-tendant was not lurking about, and made a run for it. A wisp of weakness pinched his shirt and tried to hold him back. Almost immediately he broke free. Then he heard a slight squeaking sound. If he strained his ears he could make out that it was distressed and urgent. He risked a look back. The stick man was trying to get up and stop him, for fear of being fallen upon again. The man could barely move. Matt looked around, but no one seemed to notice either of them, except the little girl. Matt put his finger to his lips. She shook her head no. He held up his index finger for her to wait while digging in his pocket. He surfaced a squishy chocolate bar and handed it to her. She nodded and studied the now sleeping Asian man.
He turned back to the stick. He had passed out with all the effort. Matt positioned him upright, put his sunglasses on the man's face, and made it look as though he was reading his magazine.
***
Returning to his quest, he made for the dividing curtain. He was now in coach, but there started to be a fair amount of turbulence.
"Everyone please return to you're seats, repeating, all passengers please return to you're seats."
Back in business class, Ms. Roberts, a worrisome old lady that liked to observe from the shadows, hoped that pale little boy she had seen meddling about didn't get into trouble. Behind her, Mr. Msckew, an accomplished psychic chuckled, "Boys will be boys, will they not?" Ms. Roberts glared at him. Three and a half years later and they are happily married, with their own detective agency in Maui.
Matt needed to hide, now. He found an empty serving cart and hoped into it. As a clichéd nightmare it started to move. A server was pushing it. He hoped the man wouldn't feel his weight. Jeez, thought Jeffery, the cart is light today! I could get used to this.
Matt found himself praying to every god of every religion possible. The only part of his brain that wasn't praying knew he was overreacting for no real reason. Then the cart stopped, and he was able to squeeze under some seats. He then started cursing himself for it. He'd just have to wait for another cart. Oh how stupid! The server would sense the sudden extra weight.
I need to help the boy. He suddenly jerked himself awake, and, with a crazy sixth sense, he did his duty.
Suddenly, Matt saw the Asian man burst out of the bathroom in nothing but his boxers and try to get a server to push his cart near the spot where Matt was hiding. The server left it right in front of him and he crawled into it.
"Security!" yelled the server as he wrestled the Asian man. The guards pulled the man off of the server and he immediately went limp. The server returned to his cart and, because of the confusion, didn't notice the extra weight. Yes! I'm going, I'm going, I'm gooooooooooing, the wrong way?
"Um, Ms. Roberts? I think you would like some sugar, wouldn't you?"
"I think you're right, Msckew. Thank you," Ms. Roberts moved as if in a daze. All the way to Matt's cart. "Excuse me," she asked the server, "but do you have any sugar?" Matt grabbed the entire pile of sugar packets.
"Yes, they're right he, huh? I'm afraid I'll have to get some more, would you wait here?"
"Why of course. Sorry for all the trouble, my blood sugar is very low." The server turned the cart around and led of toward the kitchen.
***
Yes! I think I can, I think I can! They stopped in the kitchen. It wasn't very large. It was probably one of many. The server dispatched from the cart and searched for more sugar. Matt disappeared under a table and waited for the man to leave. But as he was almost out the door, a none to familiar group of obnoxious flight attendants entered threatening each other loudly.
"My headlock would make you cry!" exclaimed the smaller of the two.
"Then lets see it!" taunted the other. They started wrestling one another. The smaller one was knocked out almost as fast as he could inhale. He collapsed on top of Matt's table and broke it, revealing the winner's favorite trouble maker. A deep throaty laugh erupted from his face holes. He picked up the boy by the scruff of his neck.
"Where do you think you're going, little guy?" he erupted in more laughter, sending mouthfuls of fishy breath into Matt's face. He hesitated. Matt sighed.
"Uh, I think I'm going into deep trouble."
"And right you are to assume so." He turned red and almost doubled over with hilarity.
***
Matt was thrown into a cage with the Asian man. If he was unconscious, he was doing a good job of seeming quite dead. The man laughed some more and locked the cage.
He returned a couple hours later.
"I've come to play, how's a kind spirited fight?" he picked Matt up, and raised his fist level with Matt's face.
"You wouldn't send the Caucus's damaged goods, would you?" he lowered his fist and his grin evaporated. "That's right, they're adopting me." A wide crescent spread across the boy's face, and unknowing to all, the same happened to the Asian man.
***
Matt had recently been moved to first class. Yay! Who would have thought having such a reputation could get you so much! There were only thirty minutes until they would hit foreign soil. Then all Matt had to do was catch his taxi to Wrestle Bristle Parkway Avenue Lane (pause for breath) Street. Then it seemed the fun would end. But at least when I go to the store I might be able to get stuff for free. He was kind of greedy, not having much as an orphan, but wasn't a very mean child.
"Hey kid, you're coming with me." The other obnoxious attendant forced Matt over towards the front of the plane. It was a long walk and the attendant was still wounded from the knock out.
They met the ape-tendant behind the curtain for coach. He put his arm around Matt's neck and the smaller attendant cringed at the man's sudden movement. They walked to the cockpit door and stopped.
"Kid, I hope you know how to land a plane, cause the pilot's out. You may see a fist mark on the top of his graying head, but I promise, it wasn't me." He grinned widely and shoved the boy through the door. Matt tried to conceal his happiness from the attendants. First he took the unconscious pilot out of the seat and positioned his headgear atop his crown. He then sat in the pilot's seat. The plane was ascending rapidly. Matt tilted the yoke downward very slowly and carefully. Then leveled the plane. Normally, in such situations you are supposed to contact help with the communicator. Matt simply waited for the runway to be sighted. It was four and a half minutes, but when he finally saw it he took a deep breath and pulled back on the throttle until the nose was four inches below the horizon. He looked around for a tire. Then he pushed the landing gear down. He then used the slats and flaps to slow the plane down. He was so close! The ground was about two and a half yards away. He raised the nose so he could land on the main wheels. Then inched the yoke forward so the nose would come down. Finally, he pulled the throttle all the way towards him. It was awfully lucky that he had taken that emergency course at Fiona's. He couldn't believe he had remembered it, he had forgotten it until now. He pushed the intercom button. "We have had a safe landing, I hope you all enjoyed the trip as much as I did."
"Well well, it seems he'll be getting to the destination after all. Isn't that wonderful?" Ms Roberts nodded. She had a glazed look about her. Msckew smiled.
Matt left the cockpit while supporting the pilot on his shoulder. The obnoxious flight attendant of the large sort was tugging at his hair. Matt felt refreshed, and an urge to get off the plane. He had forgotten all about his book. He met up with the
Asian man after he got off the plane.
"Thanks for the save back there." He looked at Matt as though he didn't understand. "You don't speak English, do you?" He muttered something in a different language, but it sounded all nasally and weird. Then Matt realized he was deaf and probably had no idea what he was saying. Matt didn't really know what to do so he started digging in his pockets and found a silver dollar. He pressed it in the man's hand and walked away.
He went looking for his taxi, and found it almost immediately. A grand limousine with a man bearing a sign that said: The future Caucus. Of course no one wanted to steal that ride.
When he entered the luxury vehicle he found a large snack fridge. Being an orphan he had learned his manners right away. But even before that he had learned the survival skills every orphan must know. He learned to think happy thoughts, to sleep as much as possible, and most importantly to never pass up food. EVER. Food was a good trading substance, plus, if you were really desperate, of course this is only a last resort, you could eat it. He loaded his backpack to the brim, stuffed his pockets, and ate the rest.
After swallowing a multitude of delicacies including caviar and truffles, he addressed the driver.
"Hey you, you driving this joint. Could we stop off by the police station, trust me, I'm all for meeting my creepy new family, but I've got just a little business take care of first.
When they arrived at the police station Matt wrote a note:
Richie Leouis, you know, the escaped convict. He's working as a flight attendant. I saw him on flight 1230Q. I managed to find out his name. He goes by Rickland Podiecs. Reggie
Matt stuck the note on the door of the police station with some blu-ish putty. He always kept such useful items in his pockets. In fact, his pockets were quite large. Then Matt walked back to his seat. The driver swung the door shut. But he caught a glimpse of the empty refrigerator.
Wow, there goes my lunch.