You awaken on a plane. You are seated comfortably in that one odd, solitary chair nearest the fire exits, so you have plenty of leg room and minimal witnesses y'know, just in case the mood strikes you.

Are you aware of the safety procedures? The flight attendant had asked you when you first boarded.

What do I look like, some kind of gaping asshole? You responded. Then quickly clarified that you did not feel you deserved to be questioned by some slut stewardess.

Ron, your flight attendant, has spent the duration of the flight crying in the bathroom.

You are surrounded by tiny, empty liquor bottles, which you enjoy, because it makes you feel like Andre the Giant. Your legs are stretched taut in front of you. Your belly is heavy with the warm, comforting weight of a vast assortment of illegal narcotics. All wrapped safely in condoms, of course. You are happy; you are content. And then, the skittish, ratty looking man across the aisle from you leans over.

You hear about those full-body scanners, man?

I love that movie, you answer, excited to finally find somebody who understands you, "when that guys head is like PKSHOW and youre all fuck yes!!! and your moms like keep it down in the-No, man. Like, at the airport? They got these machines man, they make you walk through em. They can see inside of you. Right through your clothes. Right through your fuckin skin, man!

Sweet, you reply, reclining happily, Ill be sure to chub up next time I see one. Make a good first impression.

Ha! You better get started now, man. They got em installed at the gates where were landing.

Your guts freeze. And not the good kind of freeze that comes from a bag of amphetamines leaking into your intestinal wall. The bad kind that comes from the realization that youre about to be imprisoned for a very long time. The man notices your panicked expression.

If youre holding, man. You gotta take care of that shit now.

I cant! You proclaim loudly, O, sweet irony! Ron is still crying out his girl-issues in the bathroom!

I can hear you! Ron protests weakly, from behind the thin plastic door.

Well, Ill tell ya, the man says, his wild eyes narrowing in earnestness, if they catch you with any kind of quantity, they can bust you for intent to distribute. But they cant bust you for intent if you've already taken it all. My buddy was carrying half an ounce when he got pulled over. He ate that shit on the spot, and they could only arrest him for intoxication.

If you decide to kick down the door to the lavatory, vomit up your drugs, bust open the condoms, and down them as fast as you can before you land, turn to page 3.If you decide to kick down the door to the lavatory, vomit up your drugs, and force them down Rons throat instead, making him your unwitting effeminate drug-mule, turn to page 2.

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