“Where the fuck’s that little cocksucker?” Captain' Allen Allardale yelled as he banged his way into the flight office.
Al’s co-pilot Hank Martin looked up over his' coffee cup. He lowered h1s° feet from the edge of the desk and rose to his full six: feet, two inches of height. He shrugged, curling an impish grin at one corner of his mouth. Al always referred to their flight steward as “little cocksucker” whenever Vince wasn’t around to hear him.
“Vince’s most likely in Hanger Three sucking off that mechanic boy friend of his.”
“Well, go get the little prick. Our flight leaves in less than an. hour. Tell him to get his ass in gear.”
Hank laughed. “He most likely has his ass in gear right now.”