It was a bright, fine day in New York City, with a temperature of 75 perfectly balanced and comfortable degrees, and hardly a single cloud in the endless blue sky. It was such an especially fine day, that George decided he would enjoy it in a Boeing 747 private luxury jet above the city. Where he got this plane… let’s say that’s unimportant for now. Honestly I can’t comprehend George’s thought process on this one so we’ll just roll with it.
What I can tell you is that he flew dangerously low over several tall buildings for sheer joy of this wonderful occasion, and was warned several times by the area’s national guard before several military grade stealth jets were sent in to take care of him. Again I can’t comprehend the thought process behind this or even how it was managed. Now, George wasn’t going to have this beautiful day above Manhattan ruined for him by two puny little flying doritos, so… he fought back.
George piloted his plane up and around into a half loop, and then the entire plane transformed into a larger-than-life flying behemoth in mid-flight, with the wings and engines forming a jetpack to keep it in the air. The enormous robot grabbed both of the jets in it’s godlike arms of metallic glory and chucked the pesky vehicles far away, with the pilots ejecting and safely parachuting to the the city below. George felt accomplished as his machine transformed back to it’s innocent, normal, Boeing 747 form, with most of the furnishings inside ruined, but it’s not like he was going to use it anyway. George flew away from Manhattan, to the horizon, to endless new experiences, and to adventure.
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