Private, Jet

by thoughtsonthedead

img_3337Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?

“Playing a party. Just like the old days.”

Slow down with the ‘old days,’ Bob.

“Might have been fiddling the edges of the truth there, sure.”

What is all this?

“It’s called Wheels Up. It’s a new private jet ride-share company.”

A new one? How many are there?

“You’d be surprised. A bunch. Way more than an equitable society would allow, let’s put it that way. Any sort of prophet would view the number of private jet companies as a sign that things cannot keep going this way for much longer.”

Wow.

“But this one has an app.”

Ooh, like Uber.

“Yeah, except a ride is three or four grand.”

Good life.

“Private jets do not suck. They emphatically do not suck.”

So, how much does it cost to get Bob Weir to play at your party?

“The check the private jet company gave me does not suck. It emphatically does not suck.”

Free plane tickets?

“Year’s worth for the family.”

Score.

“Oh, yeah. Serious dad points. Plus, they’re gonna strip all the seats out of one of the planes and do that Vomit Comet thing for me. Gonna be weightless with my wife, Natasha Monster.”

Double score.

“You betcha. Just like in Barbarella.

You’re killing it, Bob.

“Sure.”

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