"Would you like a drink, Sir?"
A rather frazzled voice asked nervously, and Pete's black-permed head snapped up to meet the worried gaze of a young flight attendant. Her face was pale and there were clear signs of stress in her emerald eyes. "I'm sorry we can't do anything about this situation," she apologised, and her voice shook.
"There's no need for you to apologise, hon," Pete told her warmly, before his eyes, black due to contact lenses, narrowed as the source of all the trouble on the long flight raced past them again. A blonde haired boy of around five years old, was screaming and running around the mostly packed flight, and had yet to close his mouth even before take-off.
"Well, we need to anyway," she protested lightly, and Pete shrugged. "If you feel you must, then thank you. As for a drink, I'd love a pinot noir."
"Certainly. Would you like a chocolate liqueur to go with that?"
While he did accept one, one of the other passengers sitting across from him groaned when asked the same question. "Haven't been able to eat one of those since 2006. Even looking at them makes me queasy," he said and his wife chuckled, while the flight attendant serving him handed over a pinot gris .
"Alright then, and our sincere apologies for the disturbance, sir and madam," he said, sounding thoroughly pissed off as he moved on to the next passengers.
"Someone needs to do something to make that kid shut the fuck up, eh Chantelle?" The man sitting across from Pete asked his wife, and Pete's neck snapped up again at the sound of that familiar voice. As the cabin was still lit for dinner, he had no difficulty in recognising the other two.
"And just what do Chantelle and Preston think would be best?" He asked, startling them both, just as he heard his daughter Astoria let out an audible and romantic-sounding 'Ooooh.'
Amused, he glanced over to see what she was watching, and chuckled lightly when he saw a much younger Preston in Big Brother on her screen. "He's a bit too old for you, love. You would have been three when that was filmed," he said, just as Chantelle, in some astonishment, said, 'Oh my gosh. Pete Burns.'
"Hi, hon. Everything alright?" He asked, giving her and her husband a smile
"It would be if someone used some chloroform on that little monster," she said, but Pete shook his head.
"Not overly advisable. If not done carefully, that could kill him. No, I reckon an emergency landing should do the trick," he said, unwrapping the chocolate liqueur on his tray table and Preston had to look away.
"Preston hasn't been able to eat another one of those since the task on Big Brother," Chantelle said, and Pete remembered that Preston had to eat a box of fifty liqueurs in two hours to see if it was enough to send him over the drink drive limit. He had managed to complete the task, but not without being violently sick four times.
There was a light tap on his shoulder just then, and he stood in order to let Astoria pass him, before engaging in another conversation, this time with his beautiful husband Steve.
"So, why were you two in America ?" Asked Preston out of curiosity.
"We were making a shot-for-shot music video of "Spin Me" with Jimmy Fallon and Paul Rudd," said Steve, smiling.
"Oh? How'd it go?" Asked Chantelle.
"Fine, but lacked the vibe of the original. There were a few little things that they missed, but otherwise, it was very close," Pete said.
"I see. Did you ever get that fur coat of yours back?" Preston asked with interest, and Pete rolled his eyes.
"Eventually, but what a bloody drama it was ."
Sometime later, every single passenger and crew member were at their wit's end. The horrid little monster refused to shut up, they were two hours into the flight, and the boy's mother refused to do anything about it.
"He's got behavioural problems," she said, and several parents snorted with harsh and guttural laughter, while Astoria massaged her throbbing head.
Turning to Steve, she asked, "Got any pills for a headache, papa?" As passengers argued with the boy's mother, and screamed at the kid to 'Sit down and shut the fuck up,' to not much success.
"Sorry, love. My carry on is in the overhead compartment. Your dad might have something, though." He said, and Pete, overhearing their conversation, lifted his handbag into his lap. Amongst the lipstick, cell phone, gum, and a few other odds and ends, there were two packets of pills. One was full of paracetamol, which he nearly pulled out, and then he stopped. The other packet of pills was Flunitrazepam, or to call it by it's more common name: Rohypnol. Upon seeing it, a mad thought rushed into his brain, and it stayed there.
"Hmm, I wonder?" He said to himself, as he popped two paracetamol and handed them to his daughter, who sighed with relief. "Thanks. That kid's a rebel to the core, and I would do just about anything short of murder to keep him quiet," she said, about to swallow the headache relief pills, when she realised she had nothing to swallow them with. Realising this, her father pushed the flight attendant button, and the same air hostess who had apologised to him in the beginning, appeared.
"Yes, sir?" She inquired politely.
"Might we have some water, and I have an idea," he said, gesturing to her to bend down so he could whisper into her ear. When he had told her, she looked at him in shock.
"Er, that's dramatic, sir. Not to mention, rather extreme."
"Yes, but it would also work," he smiled knowingly.
"I'll ask the captain and our flight marshal," she said, turning on her heel and walking away.
She soon returned with a cup of water for Astoria, and a grin on her face. "Normally, your idea would be highly frowned upon and rather illegal, but everyone's at their wit's end, and desperate times call for desperate measures, sir. I think everyone would love a quieter flight."
Smiling, she and Pete strolled up the aisle towards the front of the plane, and an older man in a smart black dress shirt, shinny black shoes, and charcoal grey pants came towards them. He soon introduced himself as a physician, and told Pete that while he oddly approved of the plan in mind, he also pointed out that giving an entire rohypnol to a five year old was far too powerful and could actually kill him. "Not to worry, though. An eighth of one would be enough." "An eighth?" Pete asked, just as something slammed into his leg from behind. Turning, he saw the little terror of the flight. A little boy in black pants and a peppermint green shirt, which he thought looked hideous. Nonetheless, he gave the kid a rather feral smile, which was also terrifying enough to make the kid sit down rather fast, and he thankfully shut his mouth. "Can I help you?" The boy's mother asked, as her son shifted uneasily in his seat, refusing to look Pete in the eye. A flight attendant approached her with a smile. " Would your son like a hot chocolate?" She asked, as the kid whimpered slightly as he looked up into glittering black eyes again. " That man's eyes are scary," he shook in fright, and the singer took a little bit of pity on him, for he carefully took them out. "Isn't offering my son a hot chocolate slightly random?" His mother asked the flight attendant, who just smiled and shook her head. " No. All children get one at this time of night. Do you think he'll want one?" She asked as the well-dressed doctor , who had painstakingly measured out precisely one eighth of a rohypnol, now crushed into a powder, walked over. " I suppose so," she said, just as Pete glanced around him, and did a slight double take. One row back from the front was a man who looked like the double of Rowan Atkinson. When he took another look, he just about burst out laughing. The man was engaged in the viewing of the Dentist episode of Mr. Bean. He chuckled to himself, just as the doctor carefully added the crushed pill to the hot chocolate. The effect that it had on the boy was fast, and others had been watching him, fearing another meltdown. However, when everyone saw that the kid was suddenly out cold, they all started to smile. " Did someone drug him? " Asked one passenger, and received a few nods in return. When they all understood what had just happened, everyone, including the boy's mother, let out a massive cheer of delight. As a proudly smiling Pete made his way back, everyone else on the plane cheered as well, and even Chantelle and Preston nearly suffocated him as they hugged him in gratitude. " Whatever you did, you are a genius, " Chantelle said, letting go of him. " Thank you, " Pete smiled at her, before sitting back down. PAGE BREAK The rest of the flight passed in a blur of black skies and a beautiful sunrise. As the sky turned to a stunning peach, the plane landed at Heathrow Airport, and as for the kid: he was fine.