Rabid+Platypuses+on+a+Plane

Rabid Platypuses on a Plane “Humm” the plane had taken off, but you could still barely see the Los Angeles runway getting smaller and smaller until you couldn’t see it at all, just a speck. Freddy the Platypus didn’t care; he was going over his speech again and again preparing for the interview as best he could. It was really important for him to get this job, there was no other unit in the P.R.A.T.F. (Platypus Raccoon Alliance Police Task Force) that would take him, and this was his only chance. This was the undercover unit, the toughest on of all 8 in the alliance, to get in you had to be checked, background checked, interviewed, checked, rechecked and tested to get in. All Freddy had left to do was get interviewed. “Did you hear that?” asked Spot the raccoon, Freddy’s partner in crime who was coming along to the job interview with Freddy. “Here what… oh wait now I hear it” Freddy replied. It was a muffled screaming coming from the front. Just as Freddy was about to suggest that they should go check it out they heard it again from the back of the plane. “Let’s check it out” said Freddy, switching into detective mode “I got front”. The cockpit was a mess. Papers lying all over, chairs flipped over, suit cases lying open with cloths thrown around. The worst part was that it was all covered in a thick red liquid. In the corner of the cockpit there the pilot was lying down. You could barely see him in all the mess. He was moaning softly. Freddy bent over to see if he was all right, but he stopped: Two bright red eyes appeared. I grabbed the first thing I thought of to defend myself, my #2 Dixon Ticonderoga pencil. Then it jumped, it seemed like time stopped when the beast was in mid air and we both looked at each other, surprised to see that we were the same animal. Without hesitating though Freddy stabbed out. It was a good thing that Freddy had done that because those were Rabid Platypuses, a completely different species from Freddy. The bite of a rabid beast is deadly within 2 hours. We had to help the pilot. Spot had more casualties in the back too. They assembled everyone in the center of the plane and explained the situation. They organized a plan. Everyone was hidden; they had left a big raw steak lying on in the isle. Soon the platypuses were attracted to the smell of raw meet they crawled up licking their chops. “Get ‘em!” shouted a little squirrel. That was the signal, Freddy let go of the rope, a blanket full of more pencils fell on them trapping them, at first they kicked and screamed but then they became all swollen up and still. Freddy’s plan had worked, the tips of the pencils were dipped in Novocain on, the Rabid platypuses were not dead they were just num and would feel normal in a couple of hours. Freddy still had a problem to solve though; they couldn’t land because the pilots were sick. So they had to have everyone take votes on what button to push to land the plane and somehow they landed it! The P.R.A.T.F. along with ambulances and antidotes were there to help, but Freddy went straight over to the P.R.A.T.F., he still had an interview. The task force said that you wouldn’t need that though they knew he was the right platypus for the job. Freddy was given his badge and then sent out on a new mission. The victims survived and the Rabid Platypus’s were sent to area 51 for treatment.