The wingman's Handbook Pt.3?!

The wingman's Handbook Pt.3?

Snapshot of a Flight Mission, Pt. 2: Ambushed!
The wingman skims in smoothly, overshooting the BT and striking up a conversation with the bogie. Within seconds he IDs her as a half-hearted Den Mother, less an enemy fighter than a lazily floating blimp (and she sorta resembles one too.) He glances back at his FL, ready to give the “all clear” signal, when he notices the FL’s alarmed eyes are tracking two bogies screaming in from the pool table. There’s no mistaking them—one Sister, the fast-moving Messerschmitt of the ****-blocking arsenal, and one Brumhilda, the equivalent of a rapid-firing, heavily-armored flak cannon. He deftly shifts position, putting himself between the BT and the pair, forcing them to dock with the Den Mother. Panicked, he hastily exchanges introductions and desperately barrel rolls into a “You guys want to play some pool?” gambit.
The blimp says “Sure!” the pair say “No.” He checks his six, and here comes the FL, grinning like an idiot. The wingman tries to wave him off, but it’s too late, he’s locked onto the BT, coming in high and wide with the worst pick-up line the wingman had ever heard. The blimp nudges him toward the pool table and the Messerschmitt immediately moves in, taking up an attack position on the BT’s flank, while the flak cannon digs in and loads up for a furious barrage. The wingman glances back at his FL, whose eyes have darkened with horror and doom.

The Risks
It’s true that sometimes terrible things befall wingmen. Sometimes it’s as innocuous as enduring a dull conversation or getting a drink thrown in his face. Sometimes his public reputation becomes so mangled he can no longer fly in the same theater of operations. Sometimes he will get locked in so steep a dive he can’t pull up in time to save himself from crash landing in a CB’s bed. The experience can shatter him completely, taking him off the duty roster for weeks, sometimes months. Sometimes he never comes back. Finally, worst of all, a wingman might go so far and so often into enemy territory that he will “go native,” and develop strange tastes in women. So if you find a good wingman, make sure the missions are worth his risk and sacrifice. If the bombing run is successful, buy him a bottle of the good stuff, especially if he served as a POW. Keep him happy, serve as his wingman when he needs one, and hold onto him with an iron grip. Good wingmen are as rare as diamonds.

Snapshot of a Flight Mission, Pt. 3: Dive! Dive!
“Go ahead and break, I have to use the men’s room,” the wingman tells the blimp and wings it back to the strike zone. It’s immediately evident that the FL is going down in flames. The sister is hanging on the BT’s arm and whispering in her ear and the Brumhilda is unleashing a “Let’s go somewhere else” salvo. It’s time for desperation tactics. “Hey, who wants a shot?” he fires off and unsurprisingly they all agree. He ushers the CBs toward the bar while slipping his FL a “yank and bank” signal. The FL’s eyes light up with hope and he stalls the BT halfway to the bar. The wingman glances back at the brooding blimp, who looks as if she’s ready to float back to the BT. Thinking quickly; he waves the blimp over with a “come do a shot” gesture. She starts drifting in his direction. He orders three girly shots and one banzai. “What about Beth and your friend?” the Brumhilda asks.
“Let them get their own,” the wingman says, glancing back at the laughing couple. “Here’s to me, the best pool player in town,” he baits. The CBs scoff and the wingman makes his move: “Yeah? Well, I’ll bet you the next round that me and the bli—that me and my partner here can whip the hell out of you two girlies.”
Her feminist pride stung, the Brumhilda growls, “You’re on.”
His FL, deep in conversation with the BT, gives him an almost imperceptible nod of approval as the wingman escorts the CBs to the pool table. I am the best in the business, he thinks, and then flinches as he feels the blimp’s arm encircle his waist. He looks into her voracious eyes and she says, “Hey partner, do you want to go to a party later?” His knees buckle a little and he gropes for a pool cue to steady himself. “Maybe so,” he says, thinking: “That motherf**ker is going to so owe me.”

haha
lol
great
very funny