When Pigs Fly

The turbine chugged and coughed black smoke as Pete wrenched on the propeller. Another failed attempt. Pete wiped the sweat from his brow and walked around the silver plane.

"David, how many times do I have to do this?" Pete asked, looking up at the masked pilot.

"Until she starts to buzz. At that point, you may not want to be in the way,” David said.

"I need to take a break."

"You can take a break when I'm in the air. You're on my time now, buster."

Pete nodded and turned around to hear the high pitch squeal of pork that had yet to be slaughtered. Holding the worming little pink dinner was none other than Father Harvey, dressed in his more casual attire.

"Father Harvey, I was worried you weren't going to make it," Pete said.

"I wouldn't miss this for the world, Pete," Father Harvey said, struggling with the feisty pig.

"Good. Hand him up to David while I get this bird of his in the air."

Pete went back in front of the plane and raised the propeller far above his head. He pulled it down with all his might, contracting muscles he didn't realize he had. His back ached, but he knew it would all be worth it. The turbine made a different clunk sound before the propeller started spinning on its own.

"There we go!" Pete said, running off to the side.

Father Harvey was lifting the pig up to David, who kept it at arms reach.

"Where do I put him?" David asked.

"I don't know. You're the pilot," Father Harvey said.

The wheels started to roll in the dry dirt and the pig wiggled free from David's grasp, leaping into the cockpit. David panicked and the plane started to speed off down the runway. Father Harvey stood next to Pete and watched the plane zig zag before lifting in the air.

"See Father, I told you he could handle it," Pete said.

"I didn't get to bless the plane before he took off."

"That's okay. You blessed the pig, right?"

Father Harvey gave him the same look his mother did when he forgot to bring dessert for the family get-together. "Pete, I think David needs more protection than that pig."

"He went to confession last week. He'll be fine,” Pete said, admiring the aerial display.

The plane banked and twisted in the air, flying without a care in the world below the angelic clouds. From below, David was in his element. A master of his domain. The king of the sky. That perception did not match reality.

"Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!" David yelled, trying to get his plane under control. The pig stomped on his toes and tried to jump up, hitting his steering column. "Are you trying to get us killed?”

The pig squealed and planted its hooves into David's crouch. David's eyes closed and for a moment he thought he lost consciousness. The plane started to dive and with it Pete's chances at getting the love of his life.

While this battle in the sky took place, a woman wearing a dress seemingly dyed with sunflowers marched over to Pete and Father Harvey. "What are you two doing over here? We are waiting to say grace."

Pete turned to her. "Emily, you remember how you said you would marry me when pigs fly?"

"Yeah," she huffed.

"Well. What do you see up there?"

Emily looked up to see the plane diving toward the ground with a pig blocking David's face. She shook her head and walked away, letting out a deep sigh.

"Is that a no?" Pete called to her.

Father Harvey put his hand on Pete's shoulder. "Sorry my son. You gave it your best shot."

"I suppose you're right. Better let David know he can stop…"

Pete's words were interpreted by the crash of a metal bird plunging into a solid oak tree. They turned around, witnessing the carnage. The plane engine was pushed in up to the cockpit and what was left of the propeller was dug into the dirt next to the crash. Smeared across the tree was blood and pieces of flesh.

"David!" Pete yelled.

David poked his head up from the cockpit and waved his brown cap above his head. "I'm okay."

Pete turned to Father Harvey. "See, you should've blessed the pig."