Carrying 700 passengers and a snake full of $500,000 in rolled bills, the hulking black-and-white airship Grand Piano was descending toward the land of the great lakes like a fat zebra. The storm was black. Dense. When the pilot slammed his fist on the altimeter, the altimeter started to bleed. The pilot apologized to it and then apologized through the intercom with his best Yeager drawl. The cabin erupted with sound. The cockpit filled slowly with blood. The airship Grand Piano fell from the sky and accordion-crushed the man named Pistachio, who immediately woke up smaller and crying and watching the flames rise up around his crib.
Rick Hale has work in DOGZPLOT, Pemmican, and The Splinter Generation. He has a house in East Lansing, Michigan, where he lives in a hot attic with his decisions.