Sardines on an Airplane (Part 3)

There she was...lying on the bed in front of me, her legs spread, her hand between them. She rubbed the moist area of her panties, which just barely covered her damp womanhood. I slid off my boxers and approached the bed seductively, rigid penis in hand. Suddenly, the whole house shook and I screamed in terror.
I opened my eyes and sat straight up in my seat. What a dream. Damned turbulence...another reason I despise flying. I glanced at my watch. To my dismay, I'd only been asleep for four minutes. I grimaced and reached under my seat for my Wal-Mart sack. I'd grown quite hungry and my mouth was watering as I thought of the tasty snacks I'd packed for myself. I'd recently been on a health kick, only eating vegetables and fish. Since I loathe most types of fish, I am confined to eating only sardines, more specifically the type in the tin, smothered in hot sauce.

I pulled out several tins of sardines and opened them all at once, placing them onto the tray table in front of me. Then I began voraciously shoveling them into my mouth with my fingers, since I neglected to pack a fork. The odor wafting from my sardines was apparently very offensive to many of my fellow travelers and they responded by casting disgusted looks in my direction, whispering to each other, and covering their noses with the small complimentary airplane blankets. One frumpy woman across the isle even went so far as to vomit into her doggy bag. I laughed out loud at the dramatic old sow and continued to cram the delicious fish planks into my gaping maw. Thankfully, the gargantuan beside me was still fast asleep with his earphones on. I shuddered to think of what he'd do or say to me if he witnessed my crude eating habits.

After finishing four cans of delicious sardines, I realized that I may have over-indulged in fishy goodness. I realized this as I hurled mouthful after mouthful of fresh vomit into my doggy-bag, drawing disgusted gasps and stares from fellow passengers. The sounds escaping my mouth were closely comparable to a large bear in distress and the smell was indeed putrid. When my stomach had finished rejecting everything I'd just eaten, I sat back and relaxed a moment, feeling drained of all energy and motivation. That's when I erupted into a rather nasty bout of flatulence which only further sickened the people around me. I maliciously blamed the gas on the muscular man beside me and passed out, rancid air escaping my rump noisily every few seconds.

Once again, turbulence shook me from my dreams. The air around me reeked of gas and vomit and I needed to urinate very badly. Unfortunately, the buff man beside me was still out cold and I didn't want to wake him up by attempting to edge my way past him. I reached over and from the seat pocket in front of him, I snatched his doggy bag. I sneakily slid my pants down, just enough to pop out my penis and testicles. Then I opened the doggy bag and proceeded to urinate into it. All of a sudden, the plane hit another rough spot of turbulence and I cried out in horror and dismay as the yellow stream exiting my penis splattered the seatback in front of me, covered my hands, soaked my pants and shirt, and even spritzed my face a little. Sadness consumed me as I sealed the bag, placed it back in the seat pocket in front of the muscle-man, and wiped my face with my shirt tail, which was utterly pointless considering my shirt was soaked with urine.

I was in desperate need of an alcoholic beverage. I pressed the button on my armrest that summons the stewardess and waited impatiently for her arrival. After five of the longest minutes of my life, she came sauntering up, looking as if she didn't have a care in the world. Her carefree attitude only infuriated me. She obviously saw herself as superior to me in every way and I immediately hated her for it.

"Yes sir, what can I do for you?" She asked in a snobby voice. "..and what is that terrible smell??" She scrunched her nose up in a way that I might have found attractive if I didn't already despise this horrible wench.

"I don't smell anything out of the ordinary. Not at all!" I replied sternly, "Now, how about you scurry off to the back and fetch me a straight whiskey on the rocks."

"Sir, I was told not to serve you any alcohol." The spiteful lass informed me, "You smell of alcohol already and we really cant serve you any more."

"But...but that was from last night, you horrible worthless girl!" I screamed. "I haven't had a drop all day!"

"I'm very sorry sir, but I cant serve you anything more to drink." And with that, she disappeared back down the isle.

I was emotionally crushed. I've never been very good at handling rejection, but this was terrible. I had to have something to quench my thirst or I'd surely end up doing something outrageous. I smiled wryly as I pictured myself stripping down to my briefs, opening the emergency exit, and heaving myself out into the sky, soaring through the clouds like some morbid bald eagle.

After several minutes of crying bitter salty tears, I decided to wake up the muscle-bound beast beside me and ask him to buy me a drink. I politely tapped his shoulder with my finger. I got no response so I tried again, more forcefully this time. Still no response from the slumbering giant, so I gave him a quick jab in the ribs, forming my hand into a spear-shape and really digging it in there. He awoke with a start, glaring at me menacingly.
"What do you want?" he demanded, the anger apparent in his voice.

"Yes, I was wondering if you'd be so kind as to buy me several drinks." I asked politely. "You see, the ridiculous flight attendant won't serve me because she is under the false impression that I'm already drunk. Now you and I both know that she's completely foolish and mistaken in thinking that, so I'd greatly appreciate it if you'd order for me."

"Why would I do anything for you after you were such an ass to me earlier!?" he said harshly. "Now, don't touch me again, shut the fuck up, and let me sleep or I'll beat your fucking ass!"
And with that, he closed his eyes, replaced the headphones over his ears, and sat back in his seat. The douche bag.

"What the fuck did you just say to me??" he sat back up and took his headphones off. He looked furious. Apparently, instead of staying within the privacy of my head, the "douche bag" comment had actually come out of my mouth and due to the fact that the muscular man had not yet pressed play on his music device, he had heard it clearly. Without hesitation, he grabbed the collar of my shirt and the last thing I remembered was his fist coming towards my face at a tremendous speed. The douche bag.