Missy Impossible, Chapter 12

“Crystal Crevice Tower, Shining Armor, ten miles north at 2,500.”

“Shining Armor, report your airspeed for spacing.”

“Crystal Crevice approach, we’re really hauling ass.”

“Shining Armor, I couldn’t care less about your cargo. I need to know your airspeed.”

“Oh, Roger.”

“Shining Armor, what are your intentions?”

“To get my pilot license, graduate from the academy, get married, and raise a family.”

“I meant in the next five minutes, Shining Armor, not over the next five years. What is your airspeed?”

“Oh, Roger. I think we’re averaging about one minute per mile.”

“Shining Armor, one minute per mile? What are you doing, flying a horse?”

“Sort of. And we’re running low on corn.”