“Noodles! All over the statue. Never saw such a mess! Well, not since I accidentally made T-bolt conjure up tapioca pudding by the metric ton, and that was a joke — which just goes to show that in this crazy world, anything can happen. I mean, my life has been living proof of that since the day I said that phrase. Er, am I boring you?”
Johnny Thunder ceased his stream of running commentary to gaze at his neighbor in first class, a television reporter — what was his name? — Delbert Saxonfield, or some such weird name.
Delbert’s head snapped up, and he wiped a bit of drool from his face. “Ah… no, no, Mr. Thunder. I love listening to celebrities recount their experiences. I still don’t see why you travel by plane, though. A man of your, er… talents…”
“Shucks, I was never very talented. It just feels good to travel in an ordinary way for once. It’s actually a novelty in my case. Besides, I haven’t visited Badhnisia for a long time. It seems more like a homecoming this way.”
Johnny looked out the window, admiring the view as the clouds floated close beneath the plane. Mr. Saxonfield settled back in and was soon snoring. Johnny sighed and pulled out his copy of Jonathan Law’s latest thriller. Unlike most authors, good ol’ Jon had actually lived through adventures far beyond those on the printed page, and he had made quite a good writing career out of it. He ought to drop by Jonathan’s place sometime this year, he thought to himself.