(cont)
The burly man puzzled over Bertrand and his excessive enthusiasm about what he could only assume were explosives. The burly man grabbed the torn magazine article from Bertrand’s hand and gave it a look-over. The article mentioned a foiled plot to blow-up a plane with plastic toys, and the general mayhem this caused in civilian and commercial circles. The mustached man threw the page to the floor and said:
“You’re going to do this? Now? Here?! Is that what you’re saying?”
“Well”, Bertrand started, “I would like to. I just don’t know what good it’ll do now though. Certainly my bombs would at least have thought put into them, not just thrown around so willy-nilly”.
With wide eyes and tensed muscles, the burly man shouted, “You terrorist sunnova bitch!”
The burly man punched Bertrand in the chest and he folded over easily. Then the burly man took out a pair of shiny handcuffs and a pistol from his waistband. Some gasps and cries came from passengers close enough to see it. He clasped Bertrand’s wrists together after dragging him to the ground and lying on his back. He pointed the pistol at Bertrand’s head and screamed not for him to move or he’d shoot. Bertrand tried to resist and question what was happening, but before he could get an answer, the burly man, most likely a sky marshal, pistol whipped him and knocked him unconscious. The attendant and the marshal dragged Bertrand’s handcuffed and limp body to an empty seat. Applause broke throughout the cabin, along with cheers and hollers, with everyone assuming they just witnessed a heroic moment. The sky marshal raised his hands in acceptance, waving at a few people or taking pictures with others. The ones who wanted pictures gave thumbs up and bunny ears to Bertrand who remained quite unconscious.
After about twenty minutes passed, Bertrand finally regained sentience. The sky marshal sat next to him reading a magazine.
“What? What happened? Where—What’s going on?” Bertrand said.
“Morning love. Mind the headache. You went night-night, you know. Sorry, but no more bombs for you, for a long time”.
“Why am I restrained?” he said squirming in his seat.
“Ha! What’s next? You gonna ask me why I’m such a mean guy for stopping you? Puppy act isn’t gonna help you now, man”.
“I don’t understand”, he said.
“We’re about to land early because of you. Gotta sweep the plane. But it’s all worth it, in the end. Piece of work like you…you’re gonna make a lot of new friends where you’re going. Lots”.
“For that? What? I-I just wanted—I just thought I could do it better. Surely you can see it’s all so obvious. I am being arrested for this?”
“Better? Jesus, you’re something man. I’d throw you out of this plane right now if I could. Disgusting. Enjoy your life in prison”.
“What’s disgusting”, Bertrand said shaking his head, “is either folks allow that to go on, or folks want it, so it keeps getting done. It’s so base. This is ridiculous”.
“Plastic bombs are ridiculous. That’s what’s ridiculous. How can you not see that?”
“That’s what I’m saying! ‘Bomblastic’. It’s so pedestrian”.
“Hmph. Trying for mind games? So you’re one of those proud, smarter-than-you types, huh? Not smart enough to see this coming though. How ‘bout that applesauce? You know what? I’m done talking to trash like you. Not worth it. Stop your jabbering”, the burly man said. He turned his back to Bertrand and looked out the window. The horizon steadily rose.
Bertrand reeled in his head for some moments, trying to discover the reason for his apparent capture. He was still quite heavy with vodka and orange tonic water. He even struggled against the locked cuffs, but to no avail of course. Slumping in his seat, still wondering what went wrong, Bertrand said quietly:
“Well that’s certainly the fastest I’ve ever been arrested”.
The burly man turned back towards Bertrand. He looked at him with a sharp brow.
“You think that cleverness’ll help you later? God knows you’re gonna need it”, and he turned back to the window.
Bertrand lowered his head and raked the floor with his eyes. A smile uncoiled from the corners of his mouth. His heart elevated in pulse.
“See?” he thought, “I knew I was better. ‘Bomblastic’. What a crock”.