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"Attention pilot, please do not approach the runway until you are cleared to land. *click*"

"Fuck that."

"...What? *click*"

"I said 'fuck that'. I'll land where I want to land."

"Um... what is your plane's registration and your lisence number? *click*"

"Plane registration is B fifty-seven X X seven, lisence number is T sixty-seven dash zero nine three."

"T sixty-seven dash zero nine three? *click*"

"That's right."

"SHIT. *click*"

"Haha! Figured it out, huh?"

"I... I... don't think im ready for this. T-this is my first week. *click*"

"First tell everyone to get the hell off the runway. Far away from the runway."

"Um okay. *click*"

"Okay uh they're clearing it pretty fast. *click*"

"Good, now, send someone to Grilldo's and have them prepare my special."

"Grilldos? Isn't that in Grault? *click*"

"Ah shit, you're right. Wheres a good place to eat in this hole?"

"YOU'RE CLIPPING THE TREES! *click*"

"HOOOOOO SHIT!"

"Let's focus on landing, okay? *click*"

"DON'T GET COCKY WITH ME YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

"I'm sorry, I'm just trying to prevent a wreck! *click*"

"AND I'M TRYING TO LAND! CRIMENY!"

"Allright! Fine! The runway is clear! Land already! *click*"

"Fuckin' hell! Can't I ever land in this town without it turning into some bigass spectacle?"

"LOOK OUT! *click*"

"Son of a FUCK! Why was there a shed there!?"

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