Michael looked at Marella. Her womanly body made him want to do...things. Things involving handcuffs, beds, basketball. He would take advantage of her need to turn in reports to him, make her…
“Sir, here are the reports,” Marella said, voice entirely professional.
“Yes yes, of course,” Michael said, sweat glistening on his brown. This was his chance! His chance for basketball! “Marella...let’s go over these in my office. I need...more details.”
The building they were in was struck by a missile!
The entire thing exploded, sending shrapnel flying and leaving only a burning wreck sending smoke into the sky. Up above an F-14 screamed by at top speed, blasting its way across the United States. It had fired the missile! But why?
Inside the cockpit a Pomeranian wagged his cute, fluffy little tail. His black cape hung down, but if the cockpit were open (it wasn’t open. You don’t open the cockpit of a plane while you’re flying) then it would flap charmingly in the breeze. The Pomeranian tilted the flight stick forward, sending the F-14 hurtling off again. On his collar...there was a red star.
Michael flew into the air, hurled by the explosion. He screamed a long, deafening scream as he did, since being flung into the air that high and fast is really scary. He knew that if he fell, he would die before even hitting the ground.
But then a rope caught him! He fell, then jerked back upward, trailed behind the famous attack helicopter, Airwolf! “HELP!” he screamed, since being trailed behind a helicopter was almost as scary as free fall.
Inside Airwolf’s cockpit Hawke and Dom chatted. “Should we reel him in?” Hawke asked, kicking back with a smoke. He wasn’t piloting Airwolf.
“Nah,” Dom replied, kicking back with a glass of whiskey. He also wasn’t piloting Airwolf, which was good. Don’t drink and pilot helicopters.
“You bastards give me an explanation for what’s going on, right now!” Michael yelled from behind Airwolf.
“We caught you, dummy!” Hawke yelled back. “Blame Air Bud, he’s too good of a doggie to just let someone fall.”
“Arf arf!” Air Bud said from the front of the helicopter.
“Air Bud? Who the hell is Air Bud?” Michael said, wondering if somehow, they had discovered his secret...his secret stash.
“He’s Air Bud! A dog with the uncanny ability to pilot a helicopter! We lent him Airwolf so he could track down the nefarious Mr Barkchenkov, an evil Communist dog who stole an experimental F-14, and now we’re hot on his tail!” Dom finished his whiskey and tossed the glass out the window like a badass who also liked to litter.
“What? A dog can’t pilot a helicopter! Stop funning around with me, Hawke!”
“Well, I looked through the handbook and…”
Airwolf raced across the sky painted with a brilliant red sunset, contrasting with the white cloud and blue sky.
(AIN’T NO RULE)
On a normal Air Force base in an undisclosed location in the United States, intense military men were having a meeting.
“The Tango Sunshine Project is not just over time and over budget, it’s not even providing enough pork! A nuclear powered F-14 just isn’t on the cards!” Intense military man number one banged his hand on the table.
“A nuclear F-14 could stay in the air indefinitely and fight MIGs all day! We need this project for the security of the American public!” Intense military man number two, no less intense, leaned in close to number one’s face.
“But what if it gets shot down? Or the pilot crashes the plane? We’d have a nuclear explosion, right on American soil,” the one non-intense man in the meeting said, sounding shy and confused.
“We had nuclear explosions on American soil all the time before Carter sold us out!” Intense military man number two yelled back. “Never hurt nobody none. Except John Wayne. Damn that director. “
“Aww, whose that little doggie? Come here little doggie that’s a good dog.” Intense military man number one became much less intense at the sight of an impossibly adorable Pomeranian in a charming black cape.
“Yip yip!” The Pomeranian let the less intense military man pet him for a few minutes, then ran out the door with his cape flapping behind. The intense military man watched him go, his face amazingly less intense at the sight of an adorable doggie.
Then a thought occurred to him. “How did that dog get in here?”
Down the hall ran Mr. Barkchenkov, master spy and highest ranked agent of the Soviet Union. None of the security guards took one bit of notice of him, since he was an adorable dog and therefore couldn’t possibly be any harm. This was the power that let Mr. Barkchenkov bring down the Star Wars project, cause the US to lose Vietnam, and let cheap Chinese goods steal jobs from good American workers. And now he was here to steal the nuclear F-14.
The plane was just sitting there on the tarmac, waiting for the pilot to get ready for the first test flight. Mr. Barkchenkov ran up the ladder, got inside, and activated the F-14. It didn’t explode. Mr. Barkchenkov taxied it down the runway before anyone really noticed that the highly important top secret plane was not where it was supposed to be. “Hey, stop that plane!” Some maintenance workers yelled, but it was too late.
The F-14 was in the air, and an evil Commie dog was piloting it.
In the cave where Hawke, Dom, and Airwolf lived, Dom was making dinner while Hawke polished Airwolf. They didn’t have many missions to run right now, so they were kind of bored. Just then, the radio crackled on.
“Hello, Airwolf? This is CONTROL. A Communist dog has stolen a highly experimental F-14 and is piloting it around America! You must stop the F-14 and bring it back - dead or alive.”
“This is Hawke,” Hawke said when he answered the radio. “I don’t like you making experimental nuclear F-14s, but I guess I can’t let the Communists have them. I’ll stop this Communist spy and clap him in irons.”
“They’ll have to be special tiny irons, as he’s a Pomeranian. But I trust you, to get the job done.” The radio clicked off.
“Pomeranian? So, he’s GDR...or Polish. Didn’t realise they were small,” Dom said, eating dinner as he did. “Well, we’d better get going.”
Air Bud ran up to the cave. “Arf arf arf!” he said, communicating instantly in the language of dogs, the language of the heart, that he was on the tail of the dastardly Mr. Barkchenkov, and that he had the uncanny ability to pilot a helicopter.
Realising that Air Bud was a better pilot than them, Hawke and Dom agreed to let him track down Mr. Barkchenkov while they acted as backup pilots incase evil Commie mind bullets somehow got the best of the noble Air Bud. Air Bud put on his special dog flight jacket and jumped into Airwolf, handling the controls with the dexterity only paws could have. Airwolf flew out of the cave, Air Bud’s fur rippling in the breeze.
The chase was on!
Back in Airwolf with Michael trailing along behind, Air Bud was tracking Mr. Barkchenkov with Airwolf’s radar. The nuclear F-14 was fast, but Air Bud had skill. Uncanny skill.
“Arf!” A missile shot out of Airwolf, calculated to hit the F-14 right as Mr. Barkchenkov turned around to once more harry the good people of America with his missiles.
It was a direct hit! The F-14 spun through the air but righted itself quickly. Inside, Mr. Barkchenkov dropped his adorable facade and growled with all the gravity a Pomeranian could muster. “Grrrrrrrrrrrrr….” The spirits of Lenin, Stalin, and Khrushchev appeared behind him, and he fired off two more missiles that rocketed straight towards Airwolf, guided by Communist sorcery.
Air Bud gave an un-Golden Retriever-like yip and flung Airwolf into a barrel roll, making him invincible and nearly clipping the nose of Lincoln on Mt Rushmore. The power of the American monument, built by workers labouring under the government to build a mighty symbol of their country, confounded the Communist sorcery and sent the enemy missiles flying off to attack Canada instead. Airwolf was saved...but for how long?
The dogfight was incredible. Air Bud had to use all the strength of his soldier genes, since he was a dog clone of the greatest soldier of 20th century and the first product of Les Chiens Terribles, just to doge the terrifying power of the F-14. The attacks and counterattacks took them across the country and in front of every major American landmark, from the Statue of Liberty (nearly hit by Communist mind bullets) to the Golden Gate bridge (destroyed, because San Francisco is full of godless hippies). Michael's suit was no longer white but grey from smoke and from being dragged behind a helicopter across the United States.
“Yip yip yip,” Mr. Barkchenkov yipped, but in the language of dogs he said, “Standing here, I realise. You were just like me, trying to make history. But who’s to judge the right or wrong?”
“Arf arf,” Air Bud replied sadly. “When our guard is down, I think we’ll both agree. That violence breeds violence. But…”
“Arf arf yip!” They barked in unison. “In the end, it has to be this way!”
Air Bud’s missile hit the F-14 directly in the nuclear engine.
The explosion was a midnight dawn, visible for miles over the Nevada desert. The terrible hubris of man, in trying to tame the limitless power of the atom, was finally realised to be futile in this most terrible consequence. This was the shadow of the bright new age, the price to be paid for progress.
Mr. Barkchenkov was killed in the explosion, his spirit ascending to Communist heaven.
Michael, Hawke, and Dom all had their flesh ripped off by the terrible explosive power and became skeletons. Unable to handle the skelebigotry of society, they founded a commune in the desert.
Air Bud was flung free of the explosion and landed in the forests of California. Barking weakly, he was found...by an abusive clown. But that’s another story...