Issue Three

A.A. GARRISON
tell where the hymn originated, or the
sex of its source.
He periscoped his head from the seats,
taking a cautious sweep of the cabin. It
was total bedlam: baggage everywhere;
people strewn about like their carryon; a
forest of oxygen masks hanging like
lynched men. The in-seat video screens
played on, showing a laughing young
girl. A balding man in an oxford shirt
was attacking the next seat up, his face
streaming crazy tears -- the beating
noise Adrian had been hearing. Up the
aisle, a heavy black woman in a
sundress stood aloofly, arms hung at
her sides, her candy-coloured lips in a
crumpled figure-eight. She wailed in
controlled bursts, somehow betraying
the grotesque configuration of her
mouth. She was one of the Screamers;
challenger or incumbent, Adrian knew
not which.
It was profound, how fast the place had
been trashed. The announcement had
come, what, thirty seconds ago?
"Good God," Adrian huffed, and then
dropped back down.
He had thought up more sins to confess,
when he was once more interrupted,
this time by an insistent vibration tearing
through the length of the plane. It
silenced everyone for one heartbeat
moment, much like a concert crowd
hearing the first played note. Then it
passed and all hell resumed breaking
loose.
The Laugher, with Screamers One and
Two, promptly returned to work, now
joined by a Screamer Three, who
sounded to be female and in first
class. The Singer was a little slow on
the uptake, but they eventually came
around, jumping back in at ‘saved a
wretch like me’.
Adrian ducked deep in his seat, feeling
to be in a pinball machine. He
somehow found it to keep
talking. "There was this boy I knew,
when I was a kid," he said almost
casually, to the blonde woman. "Johnny
Strassup, his name was. Nicest kid, just
--"
Adrian hunched defensively as The
Groper made another sudden pass,
announced by the fwip of his
jeans. With a morbidly cheeky
expression, the man felt up women with
remarkable dignity, as though he had
every right to do so. He ignored the
blonde, however, and Adrian picked up
where he'd left off:
"So, Johnny Strassup, nicest kid, just
kind of a loser, I guess." He waved away
sweat. "But, some kids were making fun
of him once, and --"
Adrian cut out again, now responding to
a shock of activity in the aisle. Without
prelude, the bald man who'd been
beating the seat bolted up and tackled
The Groper in one purposeful, electrified
movement bespeaking
rehearsal. Perhaps he'd become bored
with the poor piece of furniture, perhaps