Ascent into the bored night sky or what passes for it, two of three spouts dry, just dim sparks from those, third doing its best, sullen gouts of fire, psoriasis flakes making doomed moth flashes as they plummet through the thrust. Damn, thinks USS Sooperman, thought I was done with the ointment. Surface looks as crap from nineteen thousand as it does down there. At least the complaints and grousing're less audible up here, as just then an arm falls off. Christ's puckered contribution, thinks USS Sooperman. Go back for it, or let's be honest still only takes one hand to spank it so maybe not. Plus the price of repair, the popularity of molybdenum. Dull clunk of the arm down below off a little Cessna bound east for Pope's Head Slick, probably. Pale tomato explosion says arm hit engine or maybe tank. One less object aloft is the good thing there. Combover flaps something awful at these speeds, nearly smarts slappng against one side then the other. Sole working spout cuts out for a second, and the new deceleration rides USS Sooperman's shorts way up. It's the heft of the prigging utility belt, unwelcome momentum, but wedgie friction looses some ooze from god knows where and wow're things free, shorts slipping down, way down. Spastic course change and USS Sooperman snags the elastic on the crook of a foot. Now there's all kinds of flapping. Aerodynamics get bad with doubling over to try to hoist the shorts back up, and a meteor hit on the ass arches USS Sooperman backward in pain so there's nothing to stop the next one square into paunch. Not enough hands to rub the stinging impacts. Ragged hole in the tummy carapace says what do you say now to the dumb claim of invulnerability, stupid loaf. Elastic's shot and that's it for the shorts, winging off behind. Chance they'll burn up on reentry, or if not end tangled on some useless public abstract sculpture art. USS Sooperman while considering takes a small research satellite in the face, sideways, so now frontal vanes are smashed, logo's dented, and nothing will look good down at Lonely Bar no matter how low the light. When after looking back up USS Sooperman sees faces pressed against the Shuttle's porthole windows looming just ahead it's not impossible that he accelerates.

Those Daring lactators

Footage of biplanes releasing smoke/crop dusting.
MX Roaring twenties jazz.

VO: It’s 1919 and Those Daring Lactators have returned to Hood’s Flying Circus since routing the Huns back in the Great Unpleasantness. Their cloud of white glory swept them to victory after victory, leading them to fame and fortune. Yet, these daring darlings of the air, complete with matching goggles, scarves and extra chromosomes were not satisfied to rest on their laurels. Yes, that same white cloud of glory (mentioned earlier) would sweep them across the Atlantic to America to perform what would become the most daring and dangerous lactating act of all time.

VO; Say hello to Dwight:
Shot of a saluting Dwight in cockpit of airborne plane. His shirt is soaked at he nipples as he give a hearty laugh.

VO: Lesley!
Shot of a distinguished-appearing Lesley in his cockpit with smoking jacket, and a cigarette holder, He is holding a cup of tea with his other hand and depositing some cream gravitationally.

VO: And there’s Conner!
Shot of a wild looking Celtic, wind-blown maniac in his looping cockpit. A silent yell is frozen on his face, his shirt blown open in a cavalier manner and his nipples blazing forth.

VO: Now, these wild and reckless but loveable boys not only competed for the title of “most daring lactator” but also for the affections of the beautiful and fecund Claire…

Shot of a way way way too busty Claire.

VO: …only her rotund charms could tame their libertine souls. And, of course, there was Clifford Niles, who, owing to his jealous nature and silted mammaries, would stop at nothing to show-up the cocky fly-boys, steal the affections of the ripe Claire, and make his own name first among the great and famous aviators. As a matter of fact, is that Clifford there, behind the hangar, taking a brazen first step forward in some nefarious plot to do evil to our boys?…

Shot of Clifford sneaking around the back of the hangar playing with some hoses connected to a military-style drum marked “ARMY PAP.”
...