Hooves' Trip To Ireland of 747 Words Via Aer Lingus
|You might ask yourself what a writing bull, like me, Hooves, might have to do with a famous actor. |
Why would I need to forgive such an Irish hunk of talent as Mr. Liam Neeson?
It all started in 2004, on a trip to my favorite destination and Mr. Neeson's home country, Ireland.
March was the month.
My humans got me a cheap fare going and coming during the first week that March.
Sure, anyone can fly over for St. Patrick's Day with a whole HERD of tourists. I like to stretch my hooves and save a Euro, just like the next bull. So, early March it was.
We'd be back by the Ides of March, in plenty of time to shop on QVC for the St. Patty's Day specials. Our itinerary seemed sound.
There's only one fly in the ointment on my tail when it comes to plans like these.
Even though I really love Ireland, I am afraid to fly. Irish people are pretty good at soothing and settling me down, though. It is something about that music, and those tin whistles, and their soft voices, and such.
At that time, the Irish airline was called Aer Lingus. They made special room for me by taking out a few rows of seats, and once I had my blanket over my hindquarters, I was all situated. My blanket and the plane were decorated with shamrocks, which I thought was a nice touch. There was even a movie to watch, but I do not remember what it was.
Following the movie, there was a travel video about Dublin, featuring some comely cows in endless green pastures.
The flight attendants patted me on the head, stroked my horns, and gave me some tasty salted hay and cider.
Everything seemed so perfect on that overnight flight from Baltimore to Shannon, Ireland. It was smooth as silk.
About three quarters of an hour before landing time, another video started. I settled in to enjoy, but this one was serious and it was directed to all of us passengers.
The video had one man talking to us and that man was Mr. Liam Neeson. I felt like he was speaking to me and me alone.
He talked and explained how critically important it was for all of us on-board to donate generously to UNICEF BEFORE landing. He said it was the difference between life and death.
The words, "life and death" and "important" caught my attention and my ears perked. These are not words you want to hear on an airliner dangling over the Atlantic Ocean. I started to visualize sharks circling in the swirling waters below. Oh, what a tasty meal I might make for those ocean monsters!
I started to sweat, and snort, and frantically search for my Euros.
'I'll give Liam Neeson anything he wants for a safe landing!' I thought, hyperventilating, as I kicked coins into the flight attendant's collection basket.
"Settle down, Hooves!" my humans hissed. "We've got it covered."
I glanced sideways, but it did not look to me as if my humans were prepared to cough up enough moola to satisfy the likes of big movie star guy, Liam Neeson.
"He's a former Academy Award nominee," I muttered, under my breath.
Somehow, thanks to my Euros, God, and Liam Neeson's lenience, we managed to land in one piece and go on with our journey.
From that day forward, though, my fear of flying increased, as I anticipated the voice of Mr. Neeson telling me again to, "Fork it over for the kids, or else!"
Strangely enough, this only occurred on that one flight to Ireland. It has never happened again.
The "or else" was implied, or in my imagination, according to my humans. I noticed though, that over the years they looked a little nervous whenever Mr. Neeson would appear on television.
Still, close to ten years have gone by, and now, Mr. Neeson is a big action star.
They had to convince me, but I peeked at his movie, "Taken," and realized he is somebody I'd want on my side if there ever were trouble in a foreign country.
Since we landed safely, and Aer Lingus doesn't exist anymore, I decided to forgive him for making me tremble on that flight to Ireland, so many years ago.
I forgive him, but if he wins the Oscar, I would like a thank moo for the Euros, if he reads this.
Just kidding, Mr. Neeson.
Word Count = 747 (I'm not kidding)
This story was written for a monthly contest, March 2014