[Author’s note: These stories will run concurrently with the regular Port of Danger Bay storyline and will be published only on Friday.]
Previously (from Monday):
The three of them climbed down to the lower dock where Mac had a motorized inflatable boat—another new toy—and then motored out to the airplane.
“You made a place for me!” Daisy bayed happily, “Does this mean I get to go on another adventure too?”
“It does, my little friend,” Carl said with a rumbling laugh, “You and I make a good team.”
“Hey!” Boomer said, “What about me?”
“Eye candy.”
“Eye candy?” Boomer replied, “You REALLY need to get new glasses!”
“No I don’t—I lied.”
Chapter XII-B—Big Mac’s Adventure—Episode 1:
About the same time as Larry Fluttermatters was busy getting lost, Big Mac was going through the pre-flight check of the airplane beginning with the interior, magnetos off, navigation lights on, and then back into the boat (it is a little difficult to walk around a float-plane in the water-you understand) for an exterior check of the control surfaces, ailerons, elevators, rudder, navigational lights, engine oil level, loose wires and air intakes.
At the Mooring
They secured the raft to the mooring and the three climbed out on to the starboard pontoon and paused a few minutes before climbing into the small airplane.
“So this little thing is our vehicle for adventure?” Boomer cracked as he looked over the old Aeronca, “Just about the smallest vehicle we’ve ever used for such a quest.”
“I think I might get sea-sick riding in the far-back of this thing,” Daisy added.
“It’s called ‘airsick’ Daisy,” Mac rumbled, “And if you do get sick, you’ll clean up after yourself.”
“I’m a dog-person, not a cat, Peopledog-Mac, that’s not a problem!”
“This thing does have back seat controls, right?”
“You know it does, Boomer. You told me you have tons of hours of flight in an L16.”
“Not exactly ‘tons,’ Mac, about thirty hours and maybe ten actually flying the plane, with adult supervision, you understand.”
“So what exactly is your problem?”
“You had to ask, Mac. The wingnut who will be occupying the front seat!”
“Get in the plane,” Mac growled, “or grab a strut, we’re leaving!”
Boomer helped Daisy into her place behind the rear seat, while Mac removed the line to the mooring. The airplane began to drift away from the mooring. Mac engaged the starter and the engine sputtered to life and soon settled into a smooth idle. Mac maneuvered the airplane to the middle of the bay, facing into the wind, and then brought the engine to full throttle.
"Mac...brought the engine to full throttle."
After a relatively short run across the water, the little airplane was in the air and the adventure was on.
To be Continued…next Friday!
Always nice to have a little adventure taking you into the weekend.
Carl should be here to reply to comments…the old goat must be sleeping in.
I was. Jealous?
Thank you, Sarah.
Oh Captain, I love it when you tilt your ailerons …
I just KNOW there’s some hidden meaning in this comment…
We use the stick to “tilt the ailerons.”
BAD answer, Carl…you have no idea…. lol!
And away we go…
And for once I have no idea where…
Albuquerque.
They have water there?
Flying high.
Daisy!!!!! Cats are very clean creatures!!! This new adventure should be fun and I look forward:)
Maybe so, People-dog Chris, but they don’t eat their own barf.
It will be fun…if I can get Jack to finish a few more drawings. (Hint-hint)
Daisy thanks for sharing!!!!! I did not think of that:) LMAO
You’re welcome! Ar-Rooo!
“Wingnut” – AKA – Pigeon Duress
Yet unseen by themz on board, FlutterMatters is cosmically aware that the little plane is airborne. Anxiety explodes knowing that the man holding the stick might rely on Farkleberries’ GPS, or worse, ’tilt his ailerons’ and in so doing, unwittingly head for a potentially dangerous adventure.
Drawing upon his great white north Canadian high altitude freezing free fall technique developed during his years of quietly defending the DEW Line. A highly secret Super Natural British Columbia technique entrenched in FlutterMatters while at the not so secret Cold Lake, Alberta operations center, a prairie place more conspicuous than the subterranean enclaves hidden below Carolina horse. Ranches quietly run by fair buxom maidens posing as horsewomen but highly skilled in vixen methodologies dealing with all things unnatural broke men’s hearts and minds, FlutterMatters lost in the mist of those memories, found a moment of clarity.
In a that moment of not so pure light reflection, FlutterMatters speaks out to no one – ‘Methinks’ – he thinks, that he must, he must, send a warning to the little plane.
So with Wyoming Bronco Bravado equating the size of the Grand Tetons, FlutterMatters, shaking but ever strong, does with every sinue of his being, reach down to peck peck peck a GPS-SOS to the little metal red and white bird.
Struggling with consciousness, FlutterMatter’s message to the little plane is sent just as darkness is about to consume him – ‘Don’t trust *PS big@#&mist freeze flaps.
Tumbling, fighting to stay conscious, FlutterMatters, helpless as he swirls headlong through the freezing the cloud-mist which local Danger Bay types call a ST.PAUL. Such localisms obsured clarity, that often confused FlutterMatters.
In those last moments reality he remembered these cloud mists were common meteorlogical events. However, to FlutterMatters these events were known by another name.
FutterMatters recalled in his moment of terror that the name may have originated within the culture of certain Mediterranean friends living on a boot who, strangley, put their trust in an old man wearing a pointy gold laced who threw water at them. These friends who, upon seeing this event for the first time, called out, saying – dats a ‘big-Ah-mist’. The name stuck with FlutterMatters forever roosting in his lexicon.
Falling, tumbling, swirling, and hoping the message would be received, FlutterMatter’s semi conscious last wish before darkness enveloped him, was to shout those same words to the little plane as warning. It was not to be.
Entralled with her new adventure Daisy with the boys, suddenly found herself sea-air-sick. In righteous beagle fashion, glancing about, she immediately attributes her new found frailty to the copious presence of cat fur balls entwined in the blanket Mac had prepared for her riding comfort. Poor Daisy!
As the little plane sputters toward the horizon, Daisy, who is normally on high alert for all cosmic variance is so overcome with nausea, that she ignores the peck peck peck buzzing sound eminating from beneath her.
Where to begin….oh, never mind. Reading this gave me brain-freeze.
“…cat fur balls entwined in the blanket Mac had prepared for her riding comfort…” Excuse me…but Daisy’s area was fitted with a custom-designed canine-orthopedic FAA approved dog-seat/bed covered in Corinthian leather.
methinks brain freeze would be good for FlutterMatters. Either that or getting run over by a bus.
FlutterMatters is a plucky-duck…er..pigeon.
Plucky-Duck! Nice! FlutterMatters met one of them types in a northern bar. Rule was no Peking