Written 11 July, 2008
A Three-Donut Vacation
XXIX: Trouble at the Screening Station
“The bracelets are here,” said Sweetie. “We have to create a disruption.” Immediately she began making a whistling, bomb-falling sound. Considering the avatar she was wearing, it was quite effective. Passengers, yeastmen, and TSA agents alike dropped to the floor.
“Boom!” cried Sweetie, and stepped up to the metal gate.
“See here, miss,” said a TSA official from his hiding place behind the x-ray machine (the very one whose textures Sweetie tweaked oh, so long ago; click here ). “I’m not at all sure we can allow a bomb avatar through security.”
“I don’t see why not,” Sweetie whined. “I’m not a real bomb, am I?”
“You don’t appear to be ma’am,” he said, “but you have to admit, you look suspicious.”
“I’ll make a deal with you,” she said. “I’ll stop whistling if you won’t make me take my shoes off.”
“I’m not authorized to do that,” he said, then dropped to the floor as Sweetie made a spectacular explosive sound.
“See here, miss…”
Meanwhile I was making my own diversion.
-----
For a recap of our experience at the security gate (readers of a certain longevity may recall the first post of this politically incorrect, illegally derisive, and far too long story arc [it ended with Sweetie cutting off the hand of a TSA agent]), click here.
A Three-Donut Vacation
XXIX: Trouble at the Screening Station
“The bracelets are here,” said Sweetie. “We have to create a disruption.” Immediately she began making a whistling, bomb-falling sound. Considering the avatar she was wearing, it was quite effective. Passengers, yeastmen, and TSA agents alike dropped to the floor.
“Boom!” cried Sweetie, and stepped up to the metal gate.
“See here, miss,” said a TSA official from his hiding place behind the x-ray machine (the very one whose textures Sweetie tweaked oh, so long ago; click here ). “I’m not at all sure we can allow a bomb avatar through security.”
“I don’t see why not,” Sweetie whined. “I’m not a real bomb, am I?”
“You don’t appear to be ma’am,” he said, “but you have to admit, you look suspicious.”
“I’ll make a deal with you,” she said. “I’ll stop whistling if you won’t make me take my shoes off.”
“I’m not authorized to do that,” he said, then dropped to the floor as Sweetie made a spectacular explosive sound.
“See here, miss…”
Meanwhile I was making my own diversion.
-----
For a recap of our experience at the security gate (readers of a certain longevity may recall the first post of this politically incorrect, illegally derisive, and far too long story arc [it ended with Sweetie cutting off the hand of a TSA agent]), click here.
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