Island of the Sequined Love Nun

things in his life, Tucker Case was wrong about the extent of his injuries. As they wheeled him through the emergency room, he continued to chant, "I've torn off my dick! I've torn off my dick!" into his oxygen mask until a masked physician appeared at his side.
    "Mr. Case, you have not torn off your penis. You've damaged some major blood vessels and some of the erectal tissue. And you've also severed the tendon that runs from the tip of the penis to the base of the brain." The doctor, a woman, pulled down her mask long enough to show Tucker a grin. "You should be fine. We're taking you into surgery now."
    "What about the girl?"
    "She's got a mild concussion and some bruises, but she'll be okay. She'll probably go home in a few hours."
    "That's good. Doc, will I be able to? I mean, will I ever…?"
    "Be still, Mr. Case. I want you to count backward from one hundred."
    "Is there a reason for that-for the counting?"
    "You can say the Pledge of Allegiance if you want."
    "But I can't stand up."
    "Just count, smart-ass."

    When Tucker came to, through the fog of anesthesia he saw a picture of himself superimposed over a burning pink jet. Looking down on the scene was the horrified face of the matriarch of pyramid makeup sales, Mary Jean Dobbins-Mary Jean to the world. Then the picture was gone, replaced by a rugged male face and perfect smile.
    "Tuck, you're famous. You made the Enquirer." The voice of Jake Skye, Tuck's only male friend and premier jet mechanic for Mary Jean. "You crashed just in time to make the latest edition."
    "My dick?" Tuck said, struggling to sit up. There was what appeared to be a plaster ostrich egg sitting on his lap. A tube ran out the middle of it.
    Jake Skye, tall, dark, and unkempt-half Apache, half truck stop waitress-said, "That's going to smart. But the doc says you'll play the violin again." Jake sat in a chair next to Tuck's bed and opened the tabloid.
    "Look at this. Oprah's skinny again. Carrots, grapefruit, and amphetamines."
    Tucker Case moaned. "What about the aid? What was her name?"
    "Meadow Malackovitch," Jake said, looking at the paper. "Wow, Oprah's fucking Elvis. You got to give that woman credit. She stays busy. By the way, they're going to move you to Houston. Mary Jean wants you where she can keep an eye on you."
    "The girl, Jake?"
    Jake looked up from the paper. "You don't want to know."
    "They said she was going to be okay. Is she dead?"
    "Worse. Pissed off. And speaking of pissed off, there's some FAA guys outside who are waiting to talk to you, but the doctor wouldn't let them in. And I'm supposed to call Mary Jean as soon as you're coherent. I'd advise against that-becoming coherent, I mean. And then there's a whole bunch of reporters. The nurses are keeping them all out."
    "How'd you get in?"
    "I'm your only living relative."
    "My mother will be pleased to hear that."
    "Brother, your mother doesn't even want to claim you. You totally fucked the dog on this one."
    "I'm fired, then?"
    "Count on it. In fact, I'd say you'd be lucky to get a license to operate a riding lawnmower."
    "I don't know how to do anything but fly. One bad landing?"
    "No, Tuck, a bad landing is when the overheads pop open and dump people's gym bags. You crashed. If it makes you feel any better, with the Gulfstream gone I'm not going to have any work for at least six months. They may not even get another jet."
    "Is the FAA filing charges?"
    Jake Skye looked at his paper to avoid Tuck's eyes. "Look, man, do you want me to lie to you? I came up here because I thought you'd rather hear it from me. You were drinking. You wrecked a million dollars' worth of SeaTac's equipment in addition to the plane. You're lucky you're not dead."
    "Jake, look at me."
    Jake dropped the paper to his lap and sighed. "What?"
    "Am I going to jail?"
    "I've got to go, man." Jake stood. "You heal up." He turned to leave the room.
    "Jake!"
    Jake Skye stopped and looked over his shoulder. Tucker could see the disappointment in his friend's eyes.
    "What were you thinking?" Jake said.
    "She talked me into it. I knew it wasn't a good idea, but she was persistent."
    Jake came to the side of the bed and leaned in close. "Tucker, what's it take for you to get it? Listen close now, buddy, because this is your last lesson, okay? I'm out of a job because of you. You've got to make your own decisions. You can't let someone else always tell you what to do. You have to take some responsibility."
    "I can't believe I'm hearing this from