Recently received spam at work, enjoining me to work at home, contained this at the end

Rob regarded the brilliant apparition with a solemn face, but made no answer. No living person, continued the Demon, has ever before been favored with such comforting devices for the preservation and extension of human life as yourself You seem quite unappreciative, it is true; but since our connection I have come to realize that you are but an ordinary boy, with many boyish limitations; so I do not condemn your foolish actions too harshly

Part of the sales pitch? Added by a frustrated writer?

On the plane from San Antonio to Chicago yesterday the guy sitting next to me was still young enough to be impressed by certain aspects of flying. This was the first time he had flown on a small jet (it was one of the Canadair 70 seat regional jets) and was happy with the amount of legroom (compared to the next plane I was on, he was right). He had his name called in the terminal to be "moved up to the front of the plane", although in this case it just meant moving to a few rows behind first class. Hard to believe anyone still finds any part of travel to be exciting. Certainly not all the passengers last night who violated the prime directive of travel - "If you can't lift it, don't bring it" - causing our flight to be delayed enough that it took a sprint to get from one side of O'Hare to the other to get to my flight home.

And, finally, a little travel play in one act*

Setting: back of the plane, late flight out of Chicago, delayed due to the passengers described above who feel compelled to bring all their possessions on board with them and then inconvenience everyone when each overhead bin has to be rearranged to accommodate their oversize, overstuffed luggage

Characters:
Me, trapped in a window seat slightly narrower than a ruler
Precociously adorable 6 year old girl in the center seat next to me
Father of girl in aisle seat next to daughter
Mother of girl across the aisle

Little girl jabbers incessantly in a gratingly cheerful voice from the moment she boards the plane. Parents are oblivious to their daughter, each other, and everyone else around them, locked in a Wellbutrin-and-vodka induced haze. Plane taxis to runway, which takes approximately two lifetimes. Jabbering continues, with an increasingly manic edge.

Me, with my head lowered and turned toward the little girl, in a very low sinister voice, "You know, we all need to be very quiet now."

Child, eyes growing large, "Why?"

Me, "Because if we're not quiet the engines won't work and the plane won't be able to get off the ground and we'll crash in a big firey fireball and we'll all be burnt to a toasty crisp, including your mommy and daddy, except you'll be miraculously spared and will live a lonely, miserable, painful life as a disfigured, destitute, crack-addicted orphan."

Complete silence.

The End

*This is a work of mostly fiction.