Ficlets

A popular country tune blasted through the plane’s new stereo system.

“Susan, be quiet,” Kate said. “Let him do this.”

“O.K., Greenlee, line her up,” Steve said to himself. “There we go. Come on, baby – slow down. Come on, don’t overshoot. O.K., gear down,” he said. He flipped a switch and they heard the sound of the landing gear locking into place, three indicator lights shining bright green.

Inside Cactus Charlie’s bar, a growing group of people were gathering around the bar window. Several looked up and pointed at the Cheyenne making a wobbly final approach to runway 32.

“They’re landing downwind,” Todd said. “Hey everyone, look, Trax has finally lost it! He’s gonna land Greenlee’s Cheyenne downwind. Anyone got a camcorder?”

Inside the Cheyenne, Steve Greenlee engaged the flaps and applied back pressure to the flight controls. The runway lights flashed by as he tried his best to level the wings of the plane. The rear wheels touched down hard and the plane hopped along the runway at dangerous speeds.