Yes, hello there Jet. Good day, large, aggressively loud WW II fighterplane. If I may be so bold as to ask you to shut up.
I am not interested in aviation. For the most part, I am terrified of being in the air, speeding through clouds at 1000 miles per hour. I am sure that you feel happy to know that you are entertaining various people with your acrobatic maneuvers, and death defying fuckery. However, as mentioned, I am not a man of planes. I will watch Top Gun, only when extremely intoxicated, and I have never been able to procure a bomber jacket that sufficiently fits my girth.
It is for these reasons (and many more) that I was NOT in attendance at this years Air Plane Fun-Fun show. However this did not stop you from zooming by my place of residence, blaring your engines like a Nazi.
These sonic booms woke me. They shook me from my dream of Sexual Intercourse, and Freshly Baked Cookies (so you know; my erection was powerful, and happy). No, I was not engaging in Sexual Intercourse with said cookies - they were merely an after-shame treat, which I was getting ready to enjoy when The Red Baron (You), fucked my Vanwinkle.
You owe me a sexual dream, Jet Plane. I will shake my fist at you for at least 4 years due to this, and hopefully you will rue this day. Rue it proper.
MBW
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