Reaching my seat, I thrust little Chester onto the lap of the schmuck with the window seat and cram the diaper bag under the seat, keeping little Frank tucked under my arm.
Finally, I sit down and pop a nipple into Frank's mouth to shut him up. Kid's just like his dad.
I turn to the old schmuck and pretend I don't notice the spreading wet spot on his pants, as he pretends he doesn't notice my boob. I grin, friendly.
He doesn't grin back; his scowl reminds me I know him from somewhere.
"Madam, can you take your child? He's soggy."
"Look, Gramps, can you help me out? I've only got two hands."
Just then Chester grabbed a. . . Muttonchop! God, it was Evil Editor. I think he realized he'd been recognized; I saw the look of horror on his face.
A tap on my shoulder; I turned to see a stewardess with a drink cart. Slinky, young, slutty. She gave Evil Editor the look. "Can I offer you a drink?"
"A Jack Black to drop in Chester's bottle," I said. "Helps him sleep. But daddy here promised not to drink anymore after he killed the triplets. Right, sweetie?" I turned and batted my eyes at EE. "Have you ever considered a novel from a mom about her two wonderful babies? Loaded with incredible detail about . . . Ow! Asshole!" I pulled my nipple out of Frank's mouth and inspected the bite mark. No blood. I turned back to EE, who was sputtering.
You'd think a man who makes his living on the written word would have better verbal skills. I reached into the diaper bag. "I have the first thousand or so pages here. And that only covers through Frank's circumcision!"