Dogfight Squadron

"Don't tell mom I'm a pilot, she thinks I play piano in a whorehouse"

                               - Bumper sticker

     "Man, it's hot!" Jeff muttered under his breath. Sitting in the shade of the shade of his A-1 Skyraider, he looked over to his left, were two smaller jets sat.

      "Jeff?" Jon, a ginger in the heavier side, spoke up.

      "Yeah?"

      "Shut up. At least you have shade."

      "Stop it you two." I muttered. The last thing I needed was them to drive a rift between them. Being the C.O. of the Galactic Scouts, a small detachment of the famous Thunderbirds who do the intermission shows for the crowds to enjoy, the last thing I needed was an issue between pilots.

       Jeff's plane was a Vietnam veteran. Painted in it's two tone brown and green camo, the Skyraider was a straight wing radial engine carrier bomber that specialized in close air support.

       "So, you said someone was coming with us?"

      Jon flew a BD-5j. A jet version of the BD-5, it was basically an egg with wings and a jet engine. It was painted in blue "Red Bull" colors.

       "Yeah, those three idiots are coming in on a Cessna Citation. If they crash, I'm not surprised."

       Now to me. I fly a personally built plane; based off the plane I wrote about on Fimfiction, the Spiteful, it was ten feet long and seven feet wide, with swept back wings at a 120 degree angle. It had a bit of Viper Mark 2 in it with the nose intake, along with the three other intakes behind the canopy, and one under where the wings were. In all, there were ten engines in the tiny plane, and it was painted in Korean War Sabre colors.

        "Look, that's probably them."

        "Then let's get ready."

        The three idiots, Eric, Andrew, and David had wanted to join the us to the show in Mississippi. Yes, the three planes had incredible range, because they were the first aircraft with the ability to use water as jet fuel. Using the air around the plane, they draw in the water from intakes over the tanks to replenish supplies. Pretty cool, eh?

         Anyway, everyone was soon up in the air heading for the show.

         And we were jumped by a frickin' Hellcat.

         The Hellcat had six .50 caliber machine guns with ammo for 45 seconds of fire. While not able to maneuver as well as the small jets Jon and I flew, only Jeff's four 20 millimeter cannons could penetrate the armor of the American carrier fighter.

         Oh, yeah, weapons. Both the "Bee Dee" and my homemade Spiteful were armed with pitiful .303 cal machine guns with incendiary rounds. Bright white rounds, used to aim it like hosepipe.

          The Skyraider had it off like a bandit, with the 20 mils mentioned, but other Gatling cannons mounted on underwing pylons, four 50 pounder bombs, and eight high explosive rockets.

          So naturally, it fell under us tiny jets to get on Mr. Hellcat's arse and get him to maneuver away from the Skyraider. Jon and I crossed our paths, while the Hellcat began chasing a desperately jinxing Skyraider. Swinging around, Jon and I got on his tail firing rounds that could do nothing.

           The Cessna Citation wisely flew some ways away, and let us warriors duke it out. Huh. The first thing they did smartly. Anyway, fighting over Teterboro Airport, we slowly went higher and higher, into the cloud cover. Just as the Skyraider got on the Hellcat's six, bird poo began to fall around us. Literally the worst kind of storm.

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           Princess Celestia sat on her public throne in the Cloudsdale Arena, watching another annual best young flyers competition. The Wonderbolts first squadron and Rainbow Dash sat near, judging. Suddenly, bird turd began to fall from the sky. Out flew a Hellcat, chased by a Skyraider soon after, then the Bee Dee and Spiteful, then the Citation.

           Celestia had seen many weird things in her long and full life, but never had she seen something as random as this. As our aircraft weaved and jinxed, all the ponies had their eyes on us. Jeff then fired another burst of 20 mil rounds, hitting the resealable fuel tanks that couldn't really reseal anymore. The right wing snapped off in a burst of flame, and the engine screamed fiercely as the plane nosed to the ground. In the never ending fight between dirt and speeding tubes of metal, dirt has never lost.

       And Jeff got his first kill.

      "Hey, are those horses sitting on clouds?" He asked Jon.

      "Candy colored, winged horses." Jon answered.

      "Toto, we aren't in Kansas anymore." I muttered. "Gentlemen, let's get the hell outta here."

      Suddenly, golden winged horses (Pegasus, I believe) came up at us. At this point, I was pinching myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. Why? Because they were using frickin' spears.

      Punching balls through the walls, we quickly retreated, but a single rainbow colored offender wouldn't let us go. So, we played chicken, forcing the guards to tire out avoiding us. Until Jeff in his Radar capable Skyraider told us there was an airfield to the north. I can't express the relief I felt at the moment, seeing that we needed somewhere to set our girls down.

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       Setting our aircraft down, we taxied to a space and got out calmly. Until we saw the horses staring at us.

        "Really? Okay, how the fuck did we get stuck in a land of wing horses?"

        Jon and Jeff exchanged glances. Usually, it's hard to piss me off, but when I do, it's already too late.

        "Must've been that bird turd. You found that funny, God? Well, ha fucking ha! We don't even know where we will eat or drink, where to live, heck, I don't even think we are in the same fucking universe anymore! You, God, are an ass!"

        While I was ranting to my hearts content, a fiery orange horse came over.

       "What's the big deal, big guy? You barge in on Equestrian Government property. You could be arrested for that!"

        "Well, land of talking horses. Fuck me."

        "Answer me, you hairless ape!"

        "Shut up, you frickin mutant!"

        "Do you know who you are talking to?"

        "Yes, a fucking asshole!

        "Why don't you go to your house on whore island?"

        "If I wanted to hear from a bitch, I would have brought a dog!"

         "Have some respect, you bilge rat!"

          The insults went in indiscriminately for some time, until in a yellow flash of light, Princess appeared.

           "You're the reason that this country needs to put directions on shampoo bottles!"

           "I was going to give you a nasty looks, but I see you already have one." I answered cooly. "Oh, and who is this tall fella?"

            Spitfire, as I found out was her name, suddenly froze, turned to see the massive alicorn behind her.

            "Well, buck me."

            The princess was not really expecting Spitfire to be formal, seeing she was in mental shock of the vulgar language omitted from my mouth. Of course, the white pony (another thing I found out) was a slight bit shocked at the forwardness of one of the most respected ponies of Equestria.

            "My apologies." Celestia dragged Spitfire some ways away, and began to chew her out. After five minutes, she took her back. "She has something to say."

           "I sincerely apologize for my unwelcome behavior and vulgar speech."

           "As am I." I mutter. Turning around to face the other scouts, I found them unconscious in their respective aircraft snoozing like a train wreck. "Uh, sorry about this..?"

           "It is fine, um, I never got your name?"

          "Joseph, of the Galactic Scouts, detachment of the USAF Thunderbirds."

          "Princess Celestia, sovereign co-ruler of Equestria, it is my honor to welcome you to Equestria."

          "Uh, thanks? Sorry, Warriors don't make good diplomats."

          "So the old saying is true."

          "Eeyup."

         "Uh...Joseph?" Spitfire spoke up. "Seeing how you aren't even from this plane of existence, and you're gonna be stuck here for awhile, so, uh, you wanna be a Wonderbolt?"

         "Not really...but seeing I can't do shit here, I am forced to say 'yes.'"

         "Good. We could use your skills. You're assigned to reserve 617."

         "Ooh, goodie, Dambusters."

         The two ponies looked at each other, clearly confused.

         *sigh* "Never mind!"