Bob McBob, janitor at Denton High School, rubbed his filthy hands on his filthy jeans. It was long past quittin' time, but he needed the money. He still had the bathrooms to clean and shuddered at the prospects of scrubbing the soiled facilities. Reluctantly, he picked up his scrubbing brush and a gallon of soap and walked into the Girls Room by the library to begin his nightly cleanings.

  From just down the hall, Arnoldo Alejandro scooped another pile of altoids into his dustpan.
  "These kids with their breath mint wastage." He muttered. "If I had a nickel for every time I had to clean up the---"
  "Then you wouldn't be working as a janitor, now would you?"
  Arnoldo didn't have to look up to see who'd spoken.

  It was the grizzled old visage of Chuck Berk, the senior janitor. Berk had been cleaning at Denton High School since 1958. At sixty-two years, he looked his age... And then some. Arnoldo mustered a smile.
  "I suppose." He replied and went back to his work.

  Chuck was just turning to go back to whatever it was he was doing, when an agonizing scream blasted through every hall, every room, every inch of the school! Arnoldo broke into a run for the girls' bathroom. Bob, Chuck, and himself were the only janitors in the building that night. Something must have happened to Bob. Chuck scowled and went back to work as Arnoldo reached the bathrooms.

  When Arnoldo Alejandro stepped into the girls' room, he found a sight that sent a chill up and down his spine. Bob McBob lay on the bathroom floor: his throat cut, his shirt drenched with fresh blood. Whoever had killed him was long gone.

  Paul LeMaire stopped kissing his incredibly hot cheerleader girl friend long enough to turn into the DHS parking lot. Buying John that Gene Pitney CD had proven very... beneficial. It wasn't everyday he had a ravishing young woman at his side... Not since his last date with the IHOP waitress anyway.

  He wasn't sure when he realized something was wrong. But as he and his nameless girl friend began walking toward the school, Paul sensed something was up. There was a large crowd gathered in the courtyard. The flag was flying at half-mast. Something foul and wretched must have happened.

  Toward the outer fringes of the crowd, Paul spied Tyler Browder punching Jere Vela in the arm.
  "Browder, what's going on?" Paul asked.
  "I don't know!" Tyler replied. "One minute, I'm lying in bed dreaming about... Kera, and the next, I'm up here. Why are we here, Paul? We graduated almost two years ago."
  "Shhhhh," John walked up to them both, "I dug out this old story so I could finish it."
  John faded to the left as Tyler tried to punch him.
  "When exactly did this story start?" Paul asked, glancing around for Leigh just in case.
  "Don't worry." John laughed. "I think I started this either at the end of our freshman year or the start of our sophomore year."
  Tyler looked up just as Shea was making her way toward them.
  "John, I'm gonna kill you." Tyler growled and then disappeared into the crowd.

  John laughed inwardly.
  "Is something funny, Mr. Clower?" Miss Davis said sharply.
  "Many things are." John replied. "Pablo Francisco, Adam Sandler's singing voice, my three-week English average this October..."
  "How would you know your grade?" Miss Davis cast John a suspicious look, but John couldn't see it, so it was useless.
  "Let's just say that the future is now... Or four years ago." John laughed.
  "No one can see the future, John." Scott Deck said smugly.
  "Hey hey hey." John got up and ran over to Scott's desk. "Do that laugh you do!"
  Scott just gave John a puzzled look.
  "You know..." John threw his head back. "Huh ha, ha ha ha."
  "John, I don't laugh like that." Scott said flatly.
  John thought for a moment.
  "Stalin had hemorrhoids." John said finally.
  "That was Napoleon, John." Lauren Besselman corrected.
  As expected, the entire class laughed, Scott included.

  Mr. House threw a pencil at Tyler.
  "Tyler, John, get back here!" He shouted.
  Laughing evilly, John and Tyler rolled down the hall in rolly chairs.
  "I miss doing this." John laughed. "Weeeeeee!"
  Rounding a corner, the two continued down the foreign language hall and narrowly avoided running down Jennifer Dower.
  "What are you doing here?" Tyler asked as John toppled out of his chair.
  Jennifer grabbed the chair and sat down in it before John could get back to it.
  "I've got soccer practice." Jennifer explained.
  John tapped the back of the chair.
  "Oh yeah, the new seasons just around the corner isn't it."
  "Yup." Jennifer replied. "I know we'll go to state this year."
  "Close enough anyways." John remarked.
  Jennifer turned around and gave John an evil glare.
  "Hey you two nerds!" Mr. House said walking up. "If you're done rolling around the school, we're ready to start the history club meeting."
  "I'll catch you guys later." Jennifer said getting up.
  Tyler nodded as he and John turned to follow Mr. House back to the classroom.

  John stared angrily over at Tad.
  "Alexander I was a figure head!" John insisted. "Catherine the Great implemented the reforms. Alexander just rode the wave of modernization she'd started."
  "For twenty-four years?" Tad scowled. "No one could ride someone else's accomplishment that long."
  "It was the nineteenth century! The size of the Russian bureaucracy, coupled with the size of the nation-state, and the fact that communication was still that of seventeenth-century Europe... Balakovo could've exploded, and Nizhnevartovsk would be none the wiser for at least six months!"
  "Hello!" Tad said in his valley-girl way. "There was something called the Napoleonic wars going on!"
  "Alexander had an alliance with Napoleon until around 1810." John shot back. "Napoleon's trek to Russia was doomed from the start. His generals were stupid and tried invading in the fall, under the impression that Russia's forces would be disorganized. All Russia had to do was hold out till Borodino and kapouza! They took out almost a third of the French army without having to do diddly crap!"
  France took Borodino!" Besselman pointed out.
  "You didn't let me finish." John continued. "By the time the French troops reached Moscow in November, their army was all but exhausted. After waiting for weeks for a surrender from your mighty Alexander that never came, Napoleon was turned stupid and sent his troops back the way they came, which was territory the Russians had already burned when they'd retreated to Moscow. The elements and starvation were what took out the French army, not Alexander's so-called brilliance."
  "Haha, John showed you!" Tyler laughed. "That's almost as funny as the time you tried out for the top choir."
  Tad just stared at Tyler, puzzled.
  "That didn't happen for another year and a half, stupid." John whispered.
  "Ah nuts." Tyler sighed and threw an eraser at Lauren.
  "Die!" Lauren hissed and leapt at Tyler.
  As the two tumbled to the floor, pummeling the John Kerry out of each other, Mr. House walked to the front of the room.
  "Now our trip to the Kimble Art Museum will be sometime next month." Mr. House explained. "Our fund raiser only netted us five dollars, because John and Tyler kept eating their own candy. So it looks like we'll have to harvest our organs to pay for the bus. Now, Wil, Tad, and Bobby the Greek are scheduled to donate their kidneys on October 3rd."

  Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream tore through the halls of DHS like the Dallas Mavericks' offense against a team in the Atlantic Division of the Eastern Conference.
  "Browder, what did you do?!" Tad screamed girlishly.
  Simultaneously, John, Stephen, Wil, and Bobby the Greek caught up with Tyler, who was nursing a swollen jaw, courtesy of Lauren, and bolted down the hallway. After a few moments, they came upon the body of Danny Sukopapalamapopoulos, the Greek vice principal.
  "Uncle Suko!" Bobby the Greek gasped as tears came to his eyes.
  Wil knelt down and felt for a pulse.
  "He's still alive, but he's very weak."
  "Like all Greeks." Tyler laughed.
  Bobby kicked him hard in the femur.
  "John and I will go get help." Stephen said quickly. "You three, act like you know what you're doing."
  "That's the plan." Wil said, getting to his feet.
  As John and Stephen descended the stairs to the first floor of the school, Stephen elbowed John in the stomach.
  "It only took you till page four to give me any lines." He said dryly.
  "Meh." John shook his head.

  The next morning, Paul LeMaire found another crowd gathered in front of the school. Over by the sacred tree, John was arguing with Hani Ebeid and Trevor Hyland.
  "There's no way Bush can win." Trevor concluded. "Clinton's approval rating at the end of his presidency is the highest since..."
  "Reagan?" John smiled.
  "That's not the point!" Trevor continued. "Bush is just trying to finish what his father started."
  "And Gore's trying to finish what Clinton never did." John shot back. "I'll bet you a hundred bucks Bush gets elected."
  Tyler punched John in the arm as he walked up.
  "Wait, so I can't harass Tad, but you can make money off of Trevor?"
  "Exactly." John replied.
  "But that's a double standard." Tyler protested.
  "Yeah well..." John paused. "Hey look, it's Shea!"
  Tyler quickly glanced around him and saw Shea coming his way.
  "I hate you, John." Tyler sighed and made a run for it.
  "Now where were we?" John wondered aloud. "Oh yeah. The Stones suck."

  John walked off to chill with his posse as a man stepped forward to address the crowd.
  "Students, may I have your attention please." He said loudly. "My name is Jack McThomas. I am a deputy sheriff here at the Denton Police Department. As you all know, there have been two gruesome faculty murders here at Denton High School: Mr. Bob McBob on Tuesday night, and Mr. Daniel Sukopapalamapopoulos, the Greek vice principal, yesterday afternoon."
  "Uncle Suko!" Bobby the Greek sobbed from the back of the crowd.
  "Someone is trying to terrorize our community," McThomas continued, "and we will not stand for it! Whoever perpetrated this ghastly crime will be caught and punished to the full extent of the law!"
  "Sizzle sizzle!" Someone shouted.
  The crowd cheered in agreement.
  "I have been authorized by the city to announce a twenty thousand dollar reward for any information leading to the arrest of these murderers." McThomas went on. "Half a dozen officers will patrol the halls at all times. There will be random locker inspections randomly. There will be metal detectors posted at every exit. Whoever committed these dastardly deeds will not go unpunished."
  The crowd applauded as Mr. McThomas stepped aside.

  "Alright everyone, now we have our big fall concert in only fifteen weeks, so we need to-It's rude to talk while other people are talking! Now let's all have the spirit of the squirrel, because the squirrel gathers nuts to prepare for the long, cold winter until the final-do not talk while I am speaking!" Ms. Veazey shouted.
  Paul yawned and hit Rachel in the head with his bow. Without a word, Rachel turned and poked him in the chest with hers. Paul remembered why he hated orchestra so much... and why he stayed in it so long. Rachel always made the class fly by like a flyby fly flying by the bayou.
  "Now let's start this ridiculously easy piece again, and remember the spirit of the squirrel!"
  As the orchestra started the ridiculously easy piece over again, Rachel got up, laid her viola on her chair, and excused herself. Paul didn't think too much of it. Rachel usually bailed on orchestra about half an hour into the class, usually citing bladder problems. Oo I'm gonna get slapped for that one.

  After the orchestra had played the same piece eight times in a row, they were dismissed to become one with the spirit of the squirrel. Strangely enough, Rachel still wasn't back. Paul and Rachel had been good friends since the Calhoun days, so Paul went ahead and put her viola away. She could always buy him some jerkey to make up for ditching class. Mmmmmmm... jerkey!

  "Attention all students, this is your principal, Milton Wallace." Mr. Wallace's oh-so Southern voice broke Paul's reverie of processed meat. "All teachers are to lock their doors immediately. A body has just been found on a back stairwell in the freshman hall. The victim appears to have been stabbed. Do not open your doors until an official announcement is made from the principal's office."
  Paul felt his stomach tighten. Could it really be who he thought it was. "RACHEL?" He gasped with disbelief.

  Randy Sukopapalamapopoulos, twin brother of the late Danny Sukopapalamapopoulos helped the paramedics load the lifeless body of me, I mean John Clower onto a stretcher.
  "He's still alive," one paramedic said gravely, oo bad adverb, "but he needs medical attention immediately. Murphey, I need 50 C.C's. of magnohypotrilokohydrobipolarimonotetrazein. Clear!"
  Sukopapalamapopoulos said a quick Greek Orthodox prayer as the men wheeled John's bloody bloody body to the waiting ambulance. He'd been a cop for thirty-five years, but never in his forty-two years of service had he seen something so horrific.

  After another two hours of lock-down, the students were finally released for the day. After taking his incredibly hot cheerleader girl friend home, Paul headed on over to the police station where he knew his father would be hard at work.
  "Paul," Pat LeMaire called from behind a flurry of reporters.
  Once the two were in his office, they sat down on opposite sides of Officer LeMaire's desk.
  "Does the DCPD have any leads, Dad?" Paul asked.
  "'fraid not, Paully." His dad sighed. "We looked over the entire list of students that weren't in classes today. Almost all of them were off at the Creed concert, and the ones that weren't were at the mall sniffing carpet cleaner."
  "Wait a second!" Paul leapt out of his chair, knocking a lamp to the floor and shattering a framed portrait of the founder of Duncan doughnuts. "Rachel was there while Ms. Veazey took attendance, but she ducked out about half an hour into the class!"
  "Great Georgia peaches!" Pat LeMaire gasped. "Paul, you may have something there."
  "I know, I know. I'm so very brilliant." Paul patted himself on the back.
  Officer LeMaire reached over and picked up the phone.
  "McGoogle, get me Sheriff Flobo! We've got a lead!"

  Off in an abandoned carnival, Rachel Trammell smiled to herself. She was tired of being an extra in the stories. She'd put up with John for four long years now, and she deserved to be in every story. But instead, she was only in six of the thirteen stories John had written up to this point. He deserved to pay... and those foreign faculty people had always bugged her. Sukopapalamapopoulos? what kind of name was that anyway?

  Jennifer Dower suddenly emerged from a fun-house mirror dealy.
  "It's so cool in there, Rayche!" She said in astonishment. "I've never seen so many me's!"
  "Jenn, we need to get serious." Rachel scowled. "We need to find a way to get out of town before anyone gets on to us."
  "What are you talking about?" Jennifer asked, looking up at her. "No one was around when you took out the janitor or when I was dealing with our friend the vice principal. And you stayed in symphonia long enough for the witch, I mean Ms. Veazey, to take attendance, right?"
  "Right."
  "So what's the problem?"
  "It's only a matter of time before people in symphonia make the connection." Rachel sighed and sat down on an oversized yard gnome.
  "I don't see any chance of that happening." Jennifer reassured her. "But if it'll make you feel any better, I'll use my in-crowd connections to book us two tickets on the next flight to Katmandu."
  Rachel nodded satisfactorarualally and headed off to get some abandoned cotton candy she'd seen in the trashcan.

  Meanwhile, back in a small hospital room in the meantime presently, John Clower lay in a self-induced, I mean induced coma. At his bedside, Pat and Paul LeMaire watched the cool displays go beepity beep beep. As I started this sentence, Dr. Winzle Bladderburger walked up to them.
  "How's he doing, Doctor?" Mr. LeMaire asked wearily.
  "Well, for a Republican, he's quite the cut up." Bladderburger replied with an oddly psychotic smile.
  "How long does he have?" Paul gave the doctor a good old Cajun frownin.
  "At his present state, I doubt he'll last through the night." The doctor said somberly.
  "Can you revive him?"
  "For a few minutes. But Mr. Clower needs his rest."
  Pat and Paul nodded as Dr. Bladderburger jabbed John with an I.V.
  "Santa?" John murmured groggily. "Santa, is that you? Did you bring a pogo stick? And a stereo? And a lifetime subscription to the Weather Weekly? Or the Meteorological Monthly?"
  "John, it's Pat and Paul LeMaire." Paul's dad said firmly. "We need to know who did this to you."
  "The air is cold, so very very cold." John shizzivered.
  "Sorry, I'm a native of the Yukon territory in Canada." The doctor explained and turned up the thermostat.
  "Rachel," John whispered, "It was Rachel."
  Both LeMaires gasped. Immediately, Pat LeMaire pulled out his police radio.
  "This is Officer Pat LeMaire calling Deputy Jack McThomas. Issue a warrant immediately for the arrest of Rachel Trammell. I repeat, Rachel Trammell!"
  "I'll go call the guys to see if they know where she is." Paul said quickly and ran into a wall. "Dang, that hurt. Ow ow. My butt!"

  Back up at the school, Stephen and RJ played some praise music at a small vigil in front of the main entrance. Gathered there were all of my-I mean John's closest friends. To signify John's absence, a third mic was set up with John's bass and amp going untouched and unplayed.
  "Tonight we lift up our hearts and prayers for John Clower." Kris Melvin said, knocking RJ to the side. "We pray for his family, for his friends, and especially for the brave men and women who are out there tracking down his attacker."
  "Wouldn't it make much more sense to be at the hospital?" Stephen whispered to RJ.
  "Yeah." RJ replied. "I guess it goes to show you how much John thinks these things through."
  Stephen nodded.
  "After this worship service, we'll be heading over to the hospital." Kris continued. "All of you are welcome to come. Now let's all turn to chapter seven in 2 Corinthians."
  As Kris began reading, Tyler's cell phone rang.
  "Browder, it's everyone's favorite Cajun." Paul declared. "John just told my dad and I that Rachel was the one who stabbed him. You need to go track her down!"
  Tyler chucked his phone at Tad's head and bolted for his old Honda.

  Fearing that their cover would be blown, Rachel and Jennifer had used their aliases to obtain tickets. Ronda BigFoot and Christina Subpoena may not have been the best names they could have come up with, but time was short.
  "Flight 1366 to Katmandu, Nepal, now boarding."
  Rachel hit Jennifer in the butt with her carry-on bag.
  "What was that for?" Jennifer whirled on her Bartonville bud.
  "Because I was bored." Rachel explained. "And why aren't you more eager for blood? You were in even fewer stories than me."
  "Yeah, but I was only in the orchestra for twelve of them. I was still in forty-two percent of the stories."
  "And I was in forty-six percent, so I win!" Rachel replied and huffed off, whatever that means.
  "Wait, what were we talking about again?" Jennifer looked confused.

  "Attention all passengers, this is Captain Hank Murphy. We will be taking off shortly. If all personell would please turn off all electronic devices, we will be getting underway momentarily. If you have any questions, our flight attendants Jodene Sparks, Derek Stormy Waters, Debbie Dupree, and Marco Rodrigo Diaz De Vivar Gabriel Garcia Marquez will, umm, probably not help out a whole lot. Ha ha. Come on, Quinn, let's get this bird in the air!"
  Rachel sighed and turned off her robotic switchblade.
  "I'll be glad when this is all over." Jennifer sighed. "I've got too much blood on my hands."
  "So wash them off." Rachel laughed.
  Jennifer nodded and pulled out one of those frilly silly willy handy wandy pandy Mandy Randy Sandy candy Landy wipes.
  "It'll be good to get back to Nepal." Rachel yawned and stretched. "We can flourish under the reign of King Gyanendra Bir Bikram Shah Dava, frolic in the Rolwaling Valley in Nepal and live out the rest of our days as sherpas in the Himalayas."
  "Aaaah, that sounds wonderful. Jennifer smiled dreamily and began to doze off. "Harassing Buddhist monks by day, running along the shores of Rara Lake with Crown Prince Dipendra by night."
  Rachel nodded and leaned back in her seat and began to drift off as well.
  "Wait a minute, he's dead."

  Tyler dropped kicked his cell phone across the parking lot and turned to Stephen and RJ.
  "I couldn't find out anything." He sighed. "How'd you guys do on the nerd network?"
  "Ah ha!" Stephen smiled triumphantly and body-slammed his laptop against the pavement, despite the fact that he wouldn't buy the laptop for another two years. "Lenny Leonard said Rachel and Jennifer caught a flight to Katmandu, Nepal at 9:35."
  "Jennifer? What's she doing there?" Tyler asked.
  "They could be dozens of miles away by now. We'll never catch them!" RJ complained.
  "Oh?" Paul walked up to his friends, jingling a ringling of keys.

  RJ, Stephen, and Tyler gasped with awe as a helicopter appeared off to the west. After a few moments, it landed in the football field, some two hundred yards away.
  "It's the DCPD cruller copter!" Tyler shouted.
  "Dang right it is." Paul kicked RJ in the shin. "Now let's go catch us a criminal."
  The others nodded and quickly followed Paul to their awaiting aircraft.

  Rachel suddenly stirred as a hand tapped her on the shoulder.
  "Excuse me, lady." It was one of the flight attendants. "Would you care for a magazine? Or a sitar? Or a hand grenade?"
  "No thanks." Rachel yawned. "Now don't wake me up again! I was having this wonderful dream. Brad Pitt and I were alone in a jacuzzi. Brad smiled at me, and then I leaned down and--"
  "That's alright, lady. Go back to sleep!" Stormy gave a disgusted look and walked off with his tray of grenades and sitars.
  "Would you ladies care for a Mexican hat dance?" Marco Rodrigo Diaz De Vivar Gabriel Garcia Marquez smiled at them as soon as Stormy had departed.
  Jennifer lashed out at him with her purse and clubbed Marco in the face.
  "Oh, mi cara!" Marco cried and collapsed in a heap.

  Meanwhile, back on the Cruller copter...
  "Alright here's how the rankings go." Paul explained. "I'm captain, Tyler's the bumbling but well-meaning first officer, RJ'S the science officer, John's the weapons' officer, and Stephen's the engineer."
  "John's dead, stupid." Stephen retorted.
  "Ok, then umm..."
  "It doesn't matter. This helicopter doesn't have any weapons, or any science equipment either." RJ exclaimed.
  "Sure it does." Paul walked over to the side of the cockpit and hit a few controls. "The DCPD Cruller copter comes equipped with the Hydro Super Sonic Find-and-Trackinater 5,000. This puppy can track humans, Mexicans, bears, small woodland creatures... We used it to track down John Edwards after he skipped bail."
  "Sweet." RJ pulled up a wheelie chair and punched some random buttons. "Hey, I think I'm getting the hang of this. I've locked onto a half dozen aircraft within fifty miles of our position. Stephen, can you get a transponder registration for that plane?"
  Stephen's fingers flew skillfully over a laptop, which was hooked into the copter's satellite system.
  "I'm already on it... let's see. Pilot, co-pilot, cocoa pilot, ah ha. The code is 8221-003-049."
  "I've got it!" RJ'S eyes lit up. "They're forty-eight miles northeast of our position."
  "Excellent. Mr. bumbling first officer, set a course, ahead at 315 degrees, velocity 700 MPH."
  "Aye aye, captain stupid." Tyler sighed and pulled on some levers in the pilot's chair, acting like he knew what he was doing.
  "What's our ETA, Mr. Science Officer?" Paul asked.
  "At our present velocity, we will overtake the plane in approximately fifty-four minutes." RJ explained.
  "Sweet! We have time to watch a couple of Family Guy episodes!" Stephen said excitedly.
  "Score!" Tyler, Paul, and RJ high-fived each other and headed to the back of the helicopter to watch some DVD'S that wouldn't come out until 2003.

  Back on the plane of misfortune, Rachel had awakened and was skimming over the Daily Daily, a very low-budget Denton newspaper that coincidentally was readily available aboard Trans-Nepalaton Airlines. Without a word, she hit Jennifer in the head and handed her the newspaper. Jennifer's eyes narrowed at Rachel, but grew cold and vengeful as she read the front page.

  Following the gruesome murders of Bob McBob, Danny Sukopapalamapopoulos, and John Clower, the Denton County Police Department has put out a warrant for the arrest of Rachel Trammell. It is believed that Rachel may be on a flight to Asia, but nothing has been confirmed. A small task force consisting of high school juniors from Denton High School departed this afternoon and is now in pursuit of miss Trammell's flight.
  "We feel that sending members of our police force was too predictable." Jack McThomas, a sheriff's deputy told reporters in a press conference late this evening. "By sending inexperienced teenagers, The Denton County Police Department is positive that Miss Trammell will not be expecting it."

  Paul LeMaire, as well as Tyler Browder, Stephen Clower, and RJ Regenold, departed from the Denton High School Football Field Stadium Arena at approximately 10:00 this evening and would ideally overtake Trammell's flight by midnight tonight."

  Jennifer tossed the newspaper at the still unconscious Marco Rodrigo Diaz De Vivar Gabriel Garcia Marquez. She looked into Rachel's eyes and saw her own rage reflected in them. Their friends may track them down, but they wouldn't make it back to Denton alive.

  After they'd watched that episode of Family Guy where Stewy and Brian go to England, the captain of the Cruller Copter and his cackling cacophony of cackling cohorts came creeping quickly back to the cockpit.
  "The plane is eight miles off." RJ reported.
  "Mr. First Officer, prepare the grappler dealy." Paul instructed.
  "You mean?" Tyler gasped.
  "That's right, Mr. Browder." Paul paused dramatically. "We're going aboard."
  "But we can't all go." RJ pointed out.
  "Ah, true." Paul agreed. "Mr. First Officer and I will go over. You and Stephen will stay here to keep the engines in check and fly the plane. Tyler and I will apprehend the suspects and bring them back here. If we absolutely need assistance we'll let you two know."
  Stephen and RJ nodded.
  "The grappler dealy is ready, Comrade, I mean Captain." Tyler said, looking up from a control board with many pretty buttons.
  "Excellent." Paul stood up and stepped toward the doors. "Deploy the grappler dealy!"

  At once, Tyler hit a control, and a thin tether emerged from the underside of the Cruller copter. Once Stephen had slowed the engines and RJ had matched the airplane's course, they inched their way closer until they were only fifty feet above it. Tyler grabbed a harness and put it on as Paul opened the door and extended a rope ladder. Tyler's harness was connected to some cables that dangled from the fuselage. Once he'd been secured, Tyler began climbing down the rope ladder.

  Once the grappler dealy was alongside the plane, Tyler swung the ladder so that it landed at the base of one of the wings and then lowered himself onto it via the grappler dealy. Bracing himself against the body of the plane, Tyler inched his way along until he found the emergency exit. As he opened the door, he unfastened the cable the tossed it back into the wind so that Stephen and RJ could reel it in for Paul.

  Lauren Wick blinked. Was that really who she thought it was? She looked up again. It was! Jennifer Dower and Rachel Trammell were sitting about fifteen rows in front of her. Randomly glancing over the Daily Daily, Lauren's eyes grew wide with terror! She had to do something, and she had to do it now.

  After passing out Dr Pepper and salted peanuts, Stormy headed to the back for a smoke.
  "What the hall are you doing, you idiot!" Sparks shouted as he followed Stormy to the back. "We're on a plane, Stormy! You could ignite the fuel exhaust."
  "Yeah right. That's just your communist propaganda." Stormy said, looking over his shoulder.
  Jodene Sparks sighed
  "You don't even know what a communist is."
  "'sure I do." Stormy paused. "Aren't they those guys that wanted to monotize silver in the 1890's?"
  "That's "populists," not communists!" Sparks scowled, exasperated.

  Stormy was about to make a stupid retort when the door to the cargo hold suddenly magically opened. Shivering and gasping for air, two punk teenagers staggered into the corridor.
  "Holy bijesus!" Stormy cried. "Where'd they come from!?"
  "Two murderers are aboard this flight!" Paul said through shattering teeth.
  "Look, that was in self-defense!" Sparks protested.
  "No, Rachel Trammell and Jennifer Dower." Tyler said weakly. "They're aboard and wanted by the police in Denton, Texas."
  "Sweet!" Stormy exclaimed.
  "Hey, weren't you on the O'Reilly Factor?" Tyler asked.
  "Ummmmmmmm, no."

  Lauren Wick stood up and walked up to where Jennifer and Rachel were dozing. If she confronted them directly about their crimes, that could lead to trouble. She decided to play dumb, as if that's a stretch. Ouch! I was kidding! Dang it.
  "What are you two doing?" Lauren whispered.
  "Lauren? How'd you get here?" Jennifer asked.
  "I'm on my way to visit my cousin, Gyanendra, in Biratnagar." Lauren replied. "How about you guys?"
  "We were just bored with school, so we thought we'd go and be sherpas in the Himalayas for a few months." Rachel explained.
  Lauren nodded.
  "Attention all passengers. This is Quinton Q. Quin, your co-pilot. We've just received word from the FBI that two dangerous criminals are aboard this plane. Now don't panic. Fortunately Marco Rodrigo Diaz De Vivar Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Derek Waters are licensed kung fu assassins and will aid several representatives from the Denton County Police Department in Texas in apprehending these suspects. Please remain calm."
  "Attack!" Tyler and Paul shouted as they opened the back door to the cabin.

  Lauren looked up as Tyler, carrying Paul on his shoulders, charged down the aisle. When they spied Rachel and Jennifer, Tyler hurled Paul through the air like a one hundred sixty pound medicine ball. Jennifer went toppling out of her seat as Paul crashed into her. Lauren charged at Rachel as Marco and Stormy came up from the other side.

  Jennifer lashed out and kicked Paul in the face, knocking everyone's favorite self-proclaimed Cajun sensation and jerkey king to the floor. Rachel belted Lauren in the face as hard as she could. Lauren went reeling, but not before kicking Rachel in the kneecap.
  "Come on, Stormy. Let's show them what Trans-Nepalaton Airlines is made of!" Marco screeched and hurled himself at Rachel.
  The two went down to the floor as Jennifer kicked Paul in the ribs and lunged at Tyler with a purse in hand.

  After Tyler put down his purse, Jennifer caught him in a headlock and shoved him up against a cart full of exotic coffees. Tyler yelped girlishly as the piping hot coffee splattered all over his designer pants.
  "My mom gave me these pants to me on my sixth birthday!" He shouted. "Now, it's personal. Kah tah!"
  Shrieking like a crazy person, he shoved Jennifer hard and sent her careening into a large man who smelled of beans.

  At this same time, Rachel had recovered and was bonking Paul and Marco's heads together. Left unnoticed, Stormy dove low and caught Rachel around the ankles, sending all four of them sprawling. As Tyler recovered, Lauren grabbed Jennifer by the arm and pulled her to the floor. Together, she and Tyler pinned Jennifer down.
  "Is there a doctor in the house, er, plane?" Lauren shouted, which wasn't very hard for her. Ouch! I was kidding! Dang it.
  A short Indian man stepped forward.
  "I am Doctor Veerjay. What do you need?"
  "Do you have something we can use to sedate these girls?" Tyler asked.
  "But of course." Veerjay replied. "It just so happens I have an abundant supply of chloroform right here."
  Lauren and Tyler held Jennifer down as Doc pulled out a syringe and filled it with chloroform, which magically became a liquid. Quickly, he poked Jennifer in the arm and nodded satisfactorarualally as she fell unconscious.

  By this point, Rachel and Paul were making out, thus it didn't take long for Veerjay to sedate her as well. Once they both were unconscious, Tyler went to the back and returned with a FANNY PACK containing two sets of hand-cuffs. Once both were cuffed, Tyler and Paul brought them back to the Cruller copter via the grappler dealy.

  Inside, Stephen and RJ were playing on the super Nintendo that Stephen had brought in his laptop bag.
  "You jerkfaces." Paul sighed and sat down at his make-shift captains' chair.
  "Mr. RJ, take us out of here." Tyler said loudly.
  "Eh, whatever." RJ stretched and pushed some random keys on a console nearby.
  "Mr. First Officer, you have the conn." Paul said, standing up.
  "Where are you going, Paully?" Tyler asked.
  "Mmmmm, to make out some more," Paul smiled and headed to the back of the cabin.

  "And for ridding our fair city of these fowl, yet attractive criminals, I, the mayor, do hereby cristen this new sewage treatment plant as the Lapretuly Red Brow Marelie Happy-time Fun Fun Waste Cleansing Facility."
  "We need new names." Tyler moaned.
  "Or a new mayor," Paul commented.
  Tyler nodded.
  "Thanks to your efforts, our city is safe from crime and pestilence... for a few seconds anyway." The mayor continued. "Is there any way we can repay you two gentlemen?"
  "End the story!" Paul shouted. "It's been going on too long. I'm sick of it."
  "Oh alright." The mayor turned and snapped his fingers.