The Narrow Escape of Nick Claythan

Twas a cold, somber plane ride from here to there as the stewardess – business class – perused the various worldwide commuters, assumingly studying the level of their drinks and comfort. Moreso couldn’t be further from a truth, however, and as happen-chance would have it, Nick Claythan was on the scene.

Piercing eyes and a rotting gut, everyone from the 32nd Street Habberdashery to Uncle Flim’s House of Flam down in the Quarter Side knew Nick could spot a grifter from a mile away in either direction, and just such was the case on this one way trip to overseas. And as long as something is a case, Claythan’ll be on it.

No, this blue eyed hussy of a pick pocket wasn’t there for service, unless you count studying the good people of America’s international departures and swallowing the leather piggy banks in their blazer pockets as service (which, as Nick will tell you, in some parts of Taiwan, Indonesia, and Lower Detroit, they do.) Just as Missy Tricks reached into her marks pocket, Nick, miraculously and from an eagles eye site’s worth of economy class back seat positioning, darted forward.

The passengers, taken aback and slightly to the side to avoid the confusion, some clutching their Coca Cola products while others raising their Air Mall magazines in shieldy defense, must have had thoughts of terrorism, federal martials or a variety of snake-like offenders but before any mild manner heroics could go down, Nick had grabbed the women’s arm, catching her red handed stealing the green backs, and snapped her pretty little wrist, scented to perfection and draped in the jewelry of her past victories. But she wasn’t without defense, and her remaining good arm produced a switchblade made of a toothbrush and the legal amount of liquid allowed on commercial airliners. Apparently, she had trained for 13 years in the jungles of Peru with a master alchemist who tought her to turn liquid into razor sharp steel (Nick had encountered the Peruvian master himself, in episode 15 of season 6, which was never chronicled other than in the hearts and minds of those young orphans he saved during the entire fiasco).

“Haha!” she yelled, as she sliced the buttons from his favorite traveling jacket.

“I’ve never met a girl I didn’t like – ” he retorted, one eyebrow raised, ” – to kill!” and with that he kicked open the emergency evacuation door and sent her flying out and into the jumbo jets right engine.

The end

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Up Next: Tristan Davidisms the Return, 2007