Title: Worst Day Ever

By: Junkfoodmonkey

Rated: G

Summary: Short, silly story, from BA’s point of view. Just when you think things can’t get any worse… they suddenly do.

Disclaimer: The A-Team doesn't belong to me, I'm not making any money from this.

Worst Day Ever

I’m on a plane.

They did it to me again. One minute we’re running from the bad guys, the next everything goes black and I wake up here, strapped into an airplane seat. Not just strapped either, cuffed. Yeah, the guys are smart, know just what I’m gonna do to them when I get loose.

I express my feelings about the situation in the usual manner.

“Hannibal!!! I’m on a plane!!”

I hear frantic whispering from the other side of the curtain that separates the cabin from the cockpit, and a moment later Face comes stumbling through as if he’s been pushed. He throws a resentful glance back over his shoulder then turns to me with his trademark smile. Don’t point that thing at me, Faceman. You should know I’ve been immune to The Smile since about a week after I met you.

“BA, I know you’re upset.”

“Darn right I’m upset, let me out of these cuffs.” I notice he’s carefully standing well out of range of me. I can’t even kick him from here.

“We didn’t have a choice, we were outnumbered, the bad guys were about to slice and dice us, we had to get away.” He smiles again, more nervously.

“Crazyman is flying us, isn’t he?” The smile vanishes.

“Well, yes, Murdock did rescue us.”

“When are we gonna crash?”

“Crash? What makes you think we’re gonna crash?”

“We always crash.”

“Now, BA, that’s not fair, we don’t always crash.”

Hannibal sticks his head out through the curtain, says.

“Er, you’d better strap in, guys it looks like we’re gonna crash.”

This is my worst nightmare come true. As we start to rush towards the ground I hear the fool shouting, “Hang on, Billy!”

“If we don’t die in this crash I’ll kill you all!!” I yell.

“Come one BA, cheer up,” Face says, I turn to him and he’s sitting with a large pizza box on his knees. He takes out a slice and offers it to me, “Here, have some pizza, that will make you feel better. You’ll like it, it’s got anchovies and look, extra anchovies.”

“Noooooooo!!!”

I come awake sweating, in a dingy motel room. In the semi darkness I can see Face blinking at me sleepily from the other bed and Hannibal looking at me concerned from an armchair.

“You okay, sergeant?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry fellas, just, er, dreaming about ‘Nam, you know.” They both nod in understanding, settle down again. I lie back on the nearly flat pillow and close my eyes, the salt taste of sweat on my lips. Salty. Like anchovies. I shudder.

end