It was only once we were airborne that we learned that our pilot was a horse.
The stewardess introduced him, and all we heard from the intercom was snorting.
“A horse?” we asked.
“He’s a very clever horse, sir,” said the stewardess, “He’s probably the cleverest horse in the stable.”
“But how can he operate the controls? He’s got hooves.”
“It was the new owner’s idea, sir. Besides, it’s mostly autopilot these days.”
By this time we were over the Atlantic, and I had to admit that the flight had been very smooth. I asked the stewardess what the in-flight meal would be.
“I’m afraid it was the new owner’s idea, sir,” she said.
“What’s the meal?”
# # #
This is a 100-word (or thereabouts) flash fiction story, prompted by the picture you can see up there, as part of Friday Fictioneers.