Page 5 of Nobody's Fool

“Give her a few, okay, Raymond?”

“She knows I hate mayo.”

“Got it.”

“Debbie tell you how jet planes stay in the air?”

“No.”

“Want me to?”

“Do I have a choice, Raymond?”

“Witches,” he says.

“Witches,” I repeat.

“Flying witches, to be more precise. Three of them per plane. One holds the right wing, one holds the left wing, the third witch, she’s in the back, holding up the tail.”

“I’ve been on planes,” I say. “Even sat by the wing a few times. I’ve never seen a witch.”

I don’t know why I say this, but I sometimes speak and act without considering all the consequences. That might explain why I’ve gone from catching murderers and hardened criminals to quasi-Peeping-Tom-ing near Rose to the Occasion.

Raymond frowns. “They’re invisible, fool.”

“Invisible flying witches?”

“Of course,” he said, as though disgusted with my stupidity. “What, you think gigantic metal tubes can just stay up in the air by themselves? I mean, come on. You just believe everything the government tells you?”

“Fair point, Raymond.”

“Your average Airbus weighs at least 150,000 pounds. Did you know that?”

“No.”

“And we’re supposed to believe something that heavy can stay up in the air all the way across an ocean?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Take the blinders off, man. The Man has been gaslighting you. Ever hear of gravity? The physics don’t work.”

“Ergo, the witches,” I say.

“Right. Witches, man. And it’s all one big joke on mankind.”

I can’t help myself. “What do you mean, Raymond?”

He scowls. “Ain’t it obvious?”

“Not to me.”

“One day,” Raymond says, rubbing his hands together and licking his lips, “when we rubes are least expecting it, all the witches, all at the same time, they’re all going to let go.”

“Of the planes?”

He nods in satisfaction. “That’s right. All the witches will just let go of the planes at the same time. Cackling. Like witches do, youknow. Cackling and watching the planes, all of them, plummet back to earth.”

He looks at me.

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