# The Pilot

> WRITING PROMPT: “AND THEN WHAT HAPPENED?”

**Published by:** [nu fiction](https://paragraph.com/@nufiction/)
**Published on:** 2024-12-10
**Categories:** fiction, writing, creativewriting, web3, characters, chad
**URL:** https://paragraph.com/@nufiction/the-pilot

## Content

Listen to me instead of a robot here: Apple, Spotify, Pocket Casts Content Warning: This post contains adult language and themes.The Pilot by Nash UrbanOh, splendid. You're here. I have a story to tell you—a delightful tale to regale you with. Come, come. Now, did I ever tell you about the time I tried to become a pilot? Well, I wanted to fly, take to the skies, without chemical assistance mind you. So, I looked into what it would take to get ‘airborne’ as it were; get my private pilot’s license and lift off into the clouds. Turns out way too bloody much. Too much time, too much money… just plain too much effort and I was running dangerously low on all three counts. But, I wasn’t about to let that stop me, you see, I was determined. You have to fight for your right to party as the old saying goes, so I had to figure out another way. After about a good thirteen, fourteen minutes ruminating on my particular predicament, I landed on, oh, I made a funny, I said landed on a skyjacking. Quite the clever term that. It’s a portmanteau you see. You have ‘sky’ and ‘hijacking’ and you put the words together and well, you have skyjacking. Sit tight fellow, there are more aviation puns where that came from, you better believe it, old boy. Now, skyjacking being the somewhat, well let’s just say tendentious term that it is, implying you know, force and hostages and the like, let’s ahh for the purposes of this story go for a little rebranding, shall we? I was going to borrow an aeroplane while it was in the air. Then it hit me, like a lightning bolt. How was I going to get on a plane to borrow it in the first place? Security checkpoints, they don’t like me. And I was bereft of the proper documentation, or even the dosh for a ticket for that matter. And how was I going to find my way into the cockpit? Cockpit. Why do they call it a cockpit? Up there, a heap of male chickens pecking around. Needless to say, but I’m saying it anyway, I had to reassess. Now, where was I going with this? Oh, right! This is where your Uncle Jim comes in. You remember your Uncle Jim, don’t you? Jolly good fellow, God rest his soul. Never should have spent that weekend in Santiago. Shame that. I wonder whatever did happen to that goat. I mean it wasn’t easy getting it up there in the first place. Blimey, we had to graft that day, I’m telling you, old chap! Anyway, where was I? Yeah, so your uncle Jim, that crazy son of a goose tit. Speaking of melons, have I a story for you and it’s a doozy; black market business, agriculture, dames, and a dash of foreplay, I’m getting right worked up just thinking about it. Cor, cor, cor! Hang on, that’s not the story I’m supposed to be telling. Where were we? Ah, yes, your uncle Jim. He didn’t have an aeroplane, but he knew a chap who had a brother who worked with a security guard who could get us onto the grounds over at Dover Field, pounds to pennies. So that’s what we did. On the night, we were outfitted in specialized equipment. Where your uncle Jim procured, I dared not ask, but you should have observed me appearing akin to a member of the Special Air Service, garbed entirely in black attire from head to toe, moving surreptitiously while maintaining a low profile. The situation necessitated utmost discretion and secrecy. Access was granted through the use of a lock, a key, and the willful ignorance of an authority figure. And by God we made it. We made it across the runway in the dead of night to one of the private hangars. And there she was. Wasn’t much, one of those little prop jobs. But those lines. That pinstripe outlining those swooping curves. I slowly reached my hand up to the cool metal handle and slid the door backward along the fuselage. Mighty fine. Plane. Mighty fine plane. I slid across the passenger seat into the pilot’s. It was compact, as in tight inside, but everything I dreamed of. Eyes up. Nose out of it. Mind out of the dishwater, if you please. Still talking about the aeroplane here, not whatever you were obviously thinking about. So there I was, the beauty ready to be liberated from the beast that was her true owner. I’m not sure that metaphor even works, but… I even had a flying scarf tucked away and proper gloves. Did I mention the scarf? Ah, it doesn’t matter. Jim! Bless his squirrely little nuts. Your Uncle Jim, he strapped into the passenger seat, gave a coy little smile and gestured for me to proceed out of the hanger and onto the runway. And this is the happy ending; the part of the story where we flew off into the stars waving toodle-oo to the lads and lasses below… would have been a most excellent end to this tale, but that, unfortunately, is not what happened. You see, other than the fact that it was nighttime, making things exponentially more difficult in terms of aviation, there was another problem. I’m not a pilot, am I? Needless to say, this plan didn’t exactly get off the ground. Woah, punchline. Jolly good that. Well, three problems actually; it was nighttime, I’m not a pilot and there appeared to be no less than fifty-two bricks of Bolivian marching powder in the rear cabin. He was about to continue when his grandson interrupted: “Grandpa, umm I was just supposed to come tell you that supper was ready.”© Nash Urban, 2024 All rights reserved.Nash’s Notes:FYI: The article voiceover contains additional spice! Also in Podcast flavor. Long time no see. Work/Life balance is a myth. So this was an interesting one. One I reverse-engineered the writing prompt for after I had already written most of the story. But before that, let’s talk about the story voiceover, or, more accurately, lack thereof. I did initially try to record the VO for this, and I was excited about it, it was just taking way too much time. I was doing, not only a character voice but a poor British accent at that. I kept having to do retake after retake, there were interruptions, my current recording setup isn’t the best for multitrack recording and editing, etc. So there will be no story voiceover for today… and the foreseeable future, but that’s okay. I was always on the fence about narrating the passages. As I mentioned in a previous post, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to have my voice floating around inside your head or to just let you use what you thought the character’s voices would sound like, aka your imagination. Also, what am I to do with my female characters? And, after today’s difficulties, it became clear that I should just hit pause for the time being. So that is what we are doing. Not that I don’t like doing character voices, I very much do and that’s why I decided to give it a go in the first place, it’s just very time-consuming. My short-term to medium-term goal is and has always been to improve upon and get as much writing out there as possible. This will allow me to better accomplish that. But, as a consolation prize, I do have quite a few lines recorded, so I might tack a few on at the end of this pod. Think of it as bonus content. With that out of the way, back to the reverse-engineered writing prompt. What had happened was that I was digging through some old notebooks looking for some "sensitive information" when I stumbled upon this little ditty about becoming a pilot. (Yes, I just used "ditty". No, I did not do any singing.) For some reason, I had written down the word count (150) in increments of 25. Not sure why. Must have been some kind of personal challenge or Twitter thing perhaps. Regardless, I decided to use it for a post, so I took a picture to refer to later. Electronic shutter sound Later the following week, I was traveling for work and had some downtime. I decided to hit up a local craft beer joint and copy over the prose into a new notebook. So from an old notebook to a new notebook. What's that you say? Pointless? Quite the opposite, friend. You see, one of the best ways for me to understand something, really understand something, is to write it by hand; even if it is just copying. I wanted to understand what I wrote those few years back and get my head around the prose to be able to talk about it here in the notes section. As I started to copy, I just kept having this thought in my head: "And then what happened?"WRITING PROMPT: "AND THEN WHAT HAPPENED"Like I was telling a story to a young child. And then what happened? And then what happened? I mean that's the proverbial “flow”, right? Very quickly my 150 words ballooned into 950. I would have kept going but decided to pump the brakes with the grandson interjecting. I think it made for a nice comic beat as well. That, and my glass was empty and I was out of cash. Now, for the first draft, I had the voice of a Southern Gentleman that I was working with while writing and reading it aloud; I do love a good character voice. It was working, but let's just say it was a little too edgy. And by edgy I mean uncomfortable. We will revisit Mr. Southern Gentleman at some point in the future, rest assured. Next step:Writer Pro-Tip #253: Sleep on itSo I slept on it… So I thought about it while lying in bed. Why not make it an old man? I said to myself at 2:30 am when I should have been fast asleep. This is why I keep a notebook on the nightstand. During the next writing session, I decided to try it on for size, changing bits of the narration and reading them aloud. Very quickly it turned into a kind of older gentleman British accent, partially because I'm fond of that character voice and partially because I wanted to say aeroplane instead of airplane. This is where the research began. I had a lot of fun trying to insert British slang into the story and replace the existing American slang. I think I did a fair job, even though it wasn’t the most consistent, and my accent/character did tend to slip in and out a bit (the v.o. is so good because it is so bad). Ultimately and as always, I will let you be the judge. Additionally, whenever I hear or think of a British accent, I automatically think extra IQ points. Maybe this is just an American thing. This might explain why a lot of film villains are British. Smooth, intelligent, articulate and dapper. An evil genius with a master plan and impeccable manners. Except for the ones that aren’t. Not that this character was evil, quite the loquacious fella really. But because of my biased IQ factor, I tried to add a bit of that articulate speech in between the rambling, haphazard nature of the story and storyteller. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading the story. I know I enjoyed writing it. See you on the next page, NashSide note: With this passage, gDocs kept prompting me to change my language settings to British English. I refused. No taxation without representation and all that.Support Nu FictionSend me a telepathic high-fiveLike, comment, and/or collect Share with a friend or casual acquaintanceBuy me a coffee (I love coffee!)Consider becoming a subscriber

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