Reprinted without request.
A Crop Duster's Tale
Some days you're the bug, and some days you're the bug spray...
Sure, being a crop duster has it's glamorous side, but it has its risks and nothing good ever comes easy.
I was on an evening patrol at WalMart, sticking close to the men's clothing racks. Traffic was light, but there was no point in wasting the good load I was packing. Maintaining a slow pace, barely a dwell, I made a few passes. Sometimes, a direct hit opportunity is hard to find and you just have to give it your best shot.
Laying down a thick pattern between the men's flannel shirts and slacks, I pulled up and out and got into an observatory glide. Flying low, you get to see the pain, suffering and choking for breath up close and personal, but you never get used to it. The mass of the fabrics helped to retain the punch of my run and the effectiveness remained for quite an interval. I must admit that I smiled as the exclamations in Spanish searched for ears that would and could not hear the pleas of the damned.
My work was done here, I passed by the $5.00 DVD baskets and relieved the rest of the pressure in my number one tank. There was no point in hanging around, I knew what the results would be.
High from the total and complete victory experienced at WalMart, I pushed my luck and made a quick stop at the grocery store. I'd planned to make a few quick aisle runs, pick up a few items and head for the barn. Although it was getting late in the evening, there were still enough target opportunities inside the store to make a run worth it. Knowing that I still had a pretty good head of toxic steam left, I aimed for the center of the coffee and tea aisle and prepared myself for my drop. The release was textbook and I prepared to exit the immediate location and find a spot for a brief observation of the effects of my run.
With a chuckle I pulled up on the stick and gained some distance. Just before I cleared the aisle I realized one of the crop duster's worst fears. I had plunged deep into a cloud of pure patchouli fragrance. Intel had reported no hippies in this sector but obviously my intel was incomplete. Hacking and gagging, I staggered off unable to appreciate the results of my work, just glad to be alive. Like I said, some days you're the bug...
With thanks and appreciation to Ender for providing constant inspiration.
©2006 Mullah ElRon