MORGANFOKKER SAYS THAT IT IS NOT YOUR PROBLEM

Cube

Max sipped from a water bottle while waiting in a lounge room. He wiped sweat off his brow with the towel draped over his shoulder. He was tired and very sore and he didn't think he could press on. 

So this what it feels like to be past your prime. 

"Man, that was intense," Goner said as he strolled over. His t-shirt was soaked through and he was starting to reek from sweat. "Best yet, I'd say."

"Well, like wine one improves with age," Maggie said. She was sitting on the edge of a sofa teasing her hair. 

"Or turns into vinegar," Frank added after taking a long pull from a beer.

"You always have to see the negative in everything, don't you Frank," Goner said to him, shaking his head. "That's one thing that I didn't miss." 

"You know, I never thought I'd be back here today with you guys," Frank said. He was sitting on a director's chair, with a bucket of beer on ice beside him. "I think I'm getting too old for this kind of shit. But when an opportunity like this comes up, nostalgia kicks in."

"You'll never get old in my books," Angst said as she emerged from the bathroom. She was having trouble doing up the zipper on the back of her mini-dress. She turned her back to Max, who reached over and zipped her up. 

"Didn't you wear that in Vegas?" Aqua chided Angst. "Looks like the same one."

Aqua received only the finger from Angst.

"Getting bitchy in our old age, eh?" Aqua shot back at her. Then fled the scene like a burglar from the cops. 

The door to the room opened up and Morganfokker strolled in. "I think you guys better get back out there. It's going to get wild if you don't."

Max nodded and he turned to the rest and said, "Let's rock." 

Goner ripped off his t-shirt and grabbed his drumsticks off the stand. "What's the encore going to be?"

 

Flightmare

Danny Leung was having a very rough day. Not only had he missed his first flight, due to a mix up at the ticket counter, he had just received word that the contact he was supposed to meet with was found hanging from a hook in a meat locker in an L.A supermarket. Some people would have called it karma; he just thought it was shitty luck.

It looked like he had made the trip to America for nothing. He balled up his fist a little but maintained his cool. He was on an airline, after all. His superior had told him to take a day or two to sight-see before coming home.

"Smoke?" the man beside him offered. "Looks like you could use one."

Danny looked at what he presumed was an American, spiky hair, a pure black t-shirt that had a top view picture of a turntable on it. He reluctantly reached for a smoke from the package of sticks.

The stranger offered his lit cigarette as a lighter. Danny lit the cigarette and felt the nicotine do its work.

"I thought these were banned?" Danny asked after taking a puff. 

The stranger chuckled. "That they are, my friend. But don't tell the flight attendant that."

The fellow had an air of confidence about him, something sure and cocky but in a friendly sort of way. Danny took another puff. He noticed the fellow looking at his watch.

"You got someone waiting for you at the airport?" he asked the stranger.

"Not exactly," the man said. "Just that in two minutes from now the shit is going to hit the fan."

"How so?" Danny asked, wondering if this fellow was pulling his leg or not.

"See that stewardess there?" The fellow pointed at the blonde down the aisle and said matter-of-factly,  "She's about to pull out a uzi from the cart and head to the cockpit. Where she's planning on taking control of the plane. And we're here to make sure that she doesn't."