I’m sorry to bother you, but would you mind trying to keep your prosthetic wings on the other side of the armrest? It’s just that I paid nine dollars to watch Guardians of the Galaxy and I’m losing track of the narrative. I missed it when it was in theaters, and everyone has been talking about Chris Pratt like he’s the second coming of Bill Murray, so I’ve kind of been looking forward to it. I apologize if it sounds like I’m being a nag, but it’s a little cramped in here, and the screen is pretty small.
Maybe this is a weird question, but do your wings actually work? I mean, can you fly? If you can, why would you use Jet Blue to get to Chicago? Are your wings only capable of making short distance flights, like Shuttle by United? I wonder if you would have to take lessons or need some kind of a permit to do that. There must be FAA regulations about humanoid flight patterns. Regardless, it must be freezing up there.
By the way, how much did it cost to get those wings grafted onto your body? And did you get them in the States, or did you have to fly to somewhere like India for the operation? Pun not intended. You must have great health insurance because it would probably cost a fortune if you didn’t. Do you call that operation plastic surgery, or something else entirely? You know, I’ve never really understood what plastics had to do with plastic surgery. Then again, I’m not a doctor, just a guy trying to check out some sci-fi.
Man, it’s a tight squeeze in here. I might just pony up for a seat in business class next time. The movies are free up there, you know. I’m sure your wings wouldn’t be getting in the way of this phenomenal action sequence if we weren’t in coach. I know it’s expensive, but it begs the question: Why did you have to choose seat 26B? Wouldn’t it be more comfortable in a window seat? Definitely can’t sit by the aisle—that much is obvious.
I feel like you’re not listening to me, because one of your wings is still flirting with my neck. Is there some kind of cape you could wear to prevent all this shedding? I wasn’t going to say anything, but when you got up to go to the bathroom the tip of your wing dipped into my coffee. It’s okay, I’ll just ask for another.
Have you seen the movie Michael by any chance, where John Travolta is an angel living on Earth? I’m assuming you have. Your wings look pretty similar to his—pinker though. Was Michael your inspiration? If I remember correctly, he wore an overcoat to cover up his wings. Maybe that would keep the feathers from getting all over the place.
Okay, I have to ask. How sensitive are they? Are they like nipples, or elbows? I know they’re sticky, because a couple feathers got in my eyes and I couldn’t really see what was happening in the movie. I think the anthropomorphic tree died, but I’m not exactly sure. Is there a treatment that would keep them from being so sticky? I imagine you were expecting them to be softer when before they put you under. Was the recovery painful? Just thinking about that gives me chills. I hate the smell of hospitals.
I know, I’m full of questions, but it occurred to me that I never asked if you were actually born with your wings. Seems unlikely, since humans don’t have wings as far as I know. Maybe our ancestors did. I guess our shoulder blades would be like tailbones if that is the case—evolutionary evidence. Do you have a tail as well, or have you thought of getting one? That would be cool. Less intrusive, probably.
Well, the movie’s over and I missed the ending. No biggie. I can catch it on Netflix when it comes out. If Netflix decides to stream it, that is. Sometimes their selection is wanting for blockbusters. I bet you’re a Focus Features kind of guy, though, not into the Comic-Con stuff. You like to play against type. Am I right?
Oh, just one more thing, and I hope I’m not overstepping my bounds here. But I’ve noticed that your unicorn horn has jabbed the back of that lady’s head a few times. I think she might be getting annoyed.