Page 41 of Grumpy Puck

“We’re watchingThe Suicide Squad,” Michael announces.“Anyone have a problem with that?”

No one admits to having a problem with it, though Dante does mutter something about it not being the most romantic movie.

“Can I get you something to drink?”asks a flight attendant who clearly works nights as a ninja and weekends as a super model.

“Tomato juice,” Michael replies.

“Non-alcoholic,” she says approvingly, then bats her ridiculously long lashes at him.“You’ve got that important game tomorrow.”

Seriously?“I will have a Bloody Mary,” I say very pointedly.

Given the expression on the woman’s perfect face, you’d think she really hadn’t noticed me until that second.“Sure,” she says offhandedly.Turning back to Michael, she croons, “Would you like salt in your juice?”

Oh, come on.What about asking me how much vodka I want in my drink, or how much hot sauce and so on?Also, I have a funny feeling she plans to include spit in it, or even a splash of cyanide.

To his credit, Michael just grunts in the negative without so much as gracing her with a glance.

“Would you like anything else?”she asks in a tone that implies her pussy is on the list of offerings.

Michael looks at me, and it has to be my overactive imagination, but the corners of his lips seem to lift, as though in a hint of a smile.“Do your rats need a drink?”

“Rats?”The flight attendant’s eyes grow so big she wouldn’t look out of place in an anime.

I present the carrier to her the way Rafiki did with Simba.

What happens to the flight attendant is best described by the expression “a fit of the vapors.”She screams like a horny banshee, goes paler than Dante, and then climbs Coach like a tree.

“My rats are harmless,” I say after the shrieking subsides.“And they’re inside the carrier.”

For now, at least.I’m considering letting them out to stretch their legs, but between possible turbulence and so many giant hockey players around, I’m not sure I’ll risk it.

One of the pilots comes out, along with another flight attendant—a woman who is even more attractive than the hysterical one.

“What seems to be the problem?”the pilot demands.

I show them both my carrier.“I think she’s afraid of my emotional support animals.”

Both the pilot and the other flight attendant react so calmly to the sight of my rats you’d think they meet passengers like me every day.

“Hey, Precious,” the pilot says, looking at the flight attendant on top of Coach.“Are you going to be able to get yourself together?”

Precious?Was she named by Gollum?

With a visible effort, Precious climbs off of Coach and shakes her head.

A kerfuffle ensues during which Precious is swapped for someone who is a lot less ratphobic.Meanwhile, the hockey players tease Coach for being flustered after being assaulted by a woman who isn’t his wife.

“Sorry, everyone,” I say when the jokes at Coach’s expense subside.“I didn’t mean to delay us.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dante says.“She tried to flirt with your man, so you had to unleash a plague of rats on her.It’s only logical.”

I frown.“The collective noun for rats is a pack.”

“Isn’t it a swarm?”Kangaroo Jack chimes in.

“Pack,” I say firmly.

“A plague is a group of locusts,” Coach says, clearly pleased with the change of topic.

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