It's been a while since we had a contest with some literary merit. This probably won't break the dry spell, but it'll be good for some giggles. And you'll have *alllll* weekend to work on it!

I'll start the story, then stop at an appropriately suspenseful point and you pick it up from there. E-mail me the narrative and I'll add it / them in during next week (it's in your own best interest to contribute -- I can plug in "...and then I died. The End." --MajMike or "...and then I died. The End. Cheers!" --the Armorer all. week. long.)

Caveat: Anybody who *does* kill me off gets his or [ominous glare] *her* electronic addy posted on the "spam me" bulletin board of every cyber café in Lagos, Nigeria...

Ready? Ahem...

It was the smoothest landing I'd made in my entire aviation career (all six months of it). Even got a compliment from the Green Beanie major who'd been directing the op from the jump seat behind the radio console. I rolled the throttle to the flight idle stop and (after a couple of tries) flicked the spring-loaded RPM warning switch to the "OFF" position, then unfastened my shoulder harness.

Big mistake. It had been the only thing holding me upright.

Dimly aware that I was slumping to the right, I half-twisted toward the big opening in the cockpit that was normally occupied by the door and coughedvomitedcoughed about a pint of thick liquid onto the perforated steel matting of the runway. I remember thinking that the rusty orange of the steel planking provided an interesting counterpoint to the dark red I'd puked...

Okay, kids -- you've got the controls...