Kyle continues what promises to be the greatest work of literature in the entire human canon:
Evan effortlessly guided himself through the plane’s rear cargo door, switched off his jetpack and came to a soft landing. A few moments later President Bartlet came spiraling through the same entrance and crashed to a stop next to Evan. Bartlet frantically removed his jetpack as the heavy cargo door shut behind them.
“Let’s never do that again,” the President said, pushing himself up off the cold metal floor.
“Maybe next time I’ll invite the House Speaker instead. He’s good at jetpacks.”
“Hmmph. Here.” Bartlet handed Evan a holster. “You almost left this with the raptors down there.”
“My lightsaber!” Evan exclaimed. He fastened the holster around his waist. “Thanks, Jed.”
The President—eager for Evan’s validation and trust because Evan is such a cool guy—smiled.
“No, thank you for having me, Doctor Captain Executive Editor Mintz, Esq.”
The two proceeded through the plane toward the control deck. They passed the petting zoo, the Treasure Room, the Additional Treasure Room, an onboard replica of the Starship Enterprise’s main bridge that was also a ball pit, the Animorph petting zoo, and finally made it to the heavy blast door separating them from the control deck.
Evan tapped on his communicator.
“Stephen,” Evan began, “it’s me, Evan. Open up the bridge door so we can come in and talk about how I was just riding raptors around with President Bartlet.”
There was no response.
“Stephen, I’m going to keep GETTING LOUDER UNTIL YOU OPEN THIS DOOR.”
“Evan, look,” President Bartlet said, quickly tapping Evan on the shoulder.
Evan turned around to see a familiar, sinister figure emerging from the onboard Executive Washroom that was reserved for Evan and Evan only.
“What are you doing here?”
“Using your bathroom, Evan,” a high-pitched, nasally voice replied.
“Look!” Bartlet shouted, pointing toward the knocked-out body sitting on the floor of the bathroom. “He’s knocked out the pilot and left him sitting on the floor of the bathroom!”
Evan upholstered his lightsaber and activated the blade.
“Nobody mistreats my talented staff of sports writers slash airplane pilots but me!”
President Bartlet cowered in a corner and called his intelligent, liberal-minded cabinet for encouraging words as Evan and the mysterious yet oh-duh-I-wonder-who-it-is figure prepared to do battle.
“You couldn’t defeat me back in college,” the small man said, snorting with laughter. “My scouter says your power level is pathetic.”
Evan made a serious face. Suddenly the air around him became charged with static and the clouds passing outside darkened to pitch. The scouter fixed to the stranger’s face beeped frantically as Evan’s power level climbed over 9,000.
“Auuuuuggggnnnhnnnn,” Evan said. “Aaaaauuuugnnnnnnnhh!”
He charged toward the intruder, lightsaber in one hand and a drawn fist in the other.
“GET OFF MY PLANE, LEEBRON!”