New Beginning 777

I curled over in my stateroom bed, trying to get some shuteye, trying to think of anything but the roll of the ship and the scrambled eggs inside me threatening a U-turn. It finally hit me why Dr. von Tinkerbaum insisted I sail back to the states instead of fly. My nerves couldn't get to me if my guts had first dibs.

When I heard a rap at the door, I figured it was the steward with a fifth of whiskey, my only resort for a good knockout out since the doc said he didn't trust me with goofballs. ...