I foolishly announced a contest to give away DVDs in which authors were allowed to submit mini-essays of up to 500 words each. I, in my short sightedness, hadn’t really anticipated that 500 words is considerably more than a short paragraph. I’ve spent the last few days mulling over the submissions. I first narrowed the list by removing any submissions that were over 500 words, and then picked my ten winners. Some were selected because they were unique, some because they showed impressive writing skills, some because they included Indiana Jones, and some for no discernible reason whatsoever… Ok?

I had a hard time narrowing the 40 submissions to 10 winners, but I finally came up with a good cross section.

The winners are below the jump:

Winner #1 - pd:

Uh, clearly… I motherfuckin’ die.

I deserved it and I burn in hell.

Winner #2 - dan (from Ireland, so I have to determine if he CAN win) submitted:

i glance out of my window only to find a thunder stroke nearly hit the plane my nerves are tingling the flight has an hour to go i keep thinking of people like buggy holly, john denver, lynrd skynrd oh the anxiety of flying oh how i wish i caught the train. i have momentary relapse of my last trip on a train all was peaceful till the rabid gerbils ran amok killing and feeding off everyone oh how horrid it was, suddenly the plane veers to the left.i sit up straight and glance at the brandy in my cold pale shaky hands “thank god for airport security at least i wont have any rabid gerbils to fight off” then i hear a scream ” aggggghhhhh giant fucking rabid snakes on the mother fucking plane” i turn to look but the voice had caught up with me, it was david fucking hasselhoff. “fuck me it’s david hasselhoff” i said. “give me the brandy kid” said the hoff. “here you go, do you have a plan, is there anything i can help with?”i said. then the hoff guzzled down every drop of my brandy, it was then i noticed the snake staring at me and the hoff.”no time for a plan, kid” said the hoff as he grabbed at my belt i said “it’s ok hoff i can make it myself”. it was then that the hoff looked into my eyes and said “sorry kid, the snakes are hungry and i gotta drink” it was then the hoff picked me up and tossed me towards the venomous rabid snake, mid air i noticed several more waiting to pounce on me. “fucking david hasselhoff” i said as i landed with a loud thud and the snakes attacked me biting and tearing at my flesh once the attack was over i started to go into a venom induced coma, my last sight was the hoff going into the drinks trolley only to discover a “mutherfucking snake” the hoff then get’s a snake down is throat.

Winner #3 - MadMup:

I am tired – bone-tired. This trip hadn’t gone like I’d planned and my future wasn’t looking so bright. This time yesterday I was looking forward to going home, but after the voicemail I got last night… well, now I’m not so sure what I’ll find there. If my key still works in the lock I’ll take it as a good sign.

I stow my carry-on bag in the overhead compartment and sit down. I don’t like aisle seats, I like windows seats even less, and just thinking about the idea of sitting in-between two other people makes me claustrophobic. The fellow in the brown leather jacket by the window is already asleep, by the look of his fedora pulled low over his face. I’m jealous, as I know I’ll never be able to get to sleep, even as tired as I am. After all this time, I am still hyper-aware of every noise and movement, sure that every one signals the plane’s doom, and there’s no way to shut my brain off and fall asleep. It’s days like today that I seriously consider taking up drinking.

I’m halfway done with my crossword puzzle when there’s some sort of commotion up by the bathroom. We’ve been in the air for a while, so I figure it’s just someone feeling cooped up and needing to vent a little. Then I notice the lady on the other side of the plane slumped over in a weird-enough way to suggest she isn’t sleeping. I’m about to call for a flight attendant, when the lights go out. I’ve got an LED flashlight in my bag, so I stand up to get it.

When I open the overhead compartment, something falls on my shoulder. I figure it’s a strap to someone’s bag, so I pick it up to put it back in the compartment. It’s right about the time the end of the strap is on eye level that I realize it’s no strap. Staring me in the face is a green mamba, today’s answer to 32 Down. I’m surprised enough to be seeing a snake on a plane that when it hisses and strikes, I barely have time to dodge and it’s not enough. I feel the fangs sink into my ear. And then again into my cheek. And then my neck.

I fall into my seat, stunned that this is happening and no one seems to notice. I can’t speak, and I’m flailing my arms around like an amateur semaphorist, and in the process I smack my sleeping seatmate fairly soundly. He comes to with a “Hey, buddy…,” sees the snake attached to my neck and scrambles to flatten himself against the window.

“Why snakes? Why did it have to be snakes? Anything else,” he says.

He reaches under his jacket to get something, and I have just enough time to wonder how he got that bullwhip through security before everything goes black.

Winner #4 - dranscht:

I thought my flight to LA’d be relaxing
Just watch the kid or read or get some rest.
Alas, that Eddie Kim; he’s such a bastard,
Got snakes onboard. Well, this’ll be a test…

I first heard screaming down there in the coach seats;
My partner ran on down to check it out.
I followed, just to lend him some assistance
But came too late; he was down for the count.

Snakes were his biggest fear, he had once told me;
One’d bit his sister way back in the day.
And here he was, envenomed, scared, and bloody;
I wish he hadn’t had to die that way.

So it was up to me to be the hero;
A cobra struck; I tasered it to death.
The kid was safe; there were no snakes in first class.
I looked around, saw chaos; took a breath.

I sprinted through the cabin towards the flight crew
Avoiding corpses, watching out for snakes.
Looks of horror plastered on their faces;
Vacation, it turns out, was NOT a break.

In short, the snakes were snuck onboard in flowers.
I had no doubt; this HAD to be Kim’s plan.
He’d always based his actions on completeness;
He’d take the whole plane down to kill one man.

“The captain’s dead!” they screamed, in fear.
“And Grace was bitten too!
Oh please, please help us, Agent Flynn!
Our safety’s up to you.”

I gathered bags and luggage; made a barrier.
The snakes, though they would try, could not get through.
I called my desk man, good ol’ Agent Harris.
An expert had him tell me what to do.

But then the snakes broke through my makeshift barrier!
Some mambas, rattlers, taipans; blood ensued.
The food cart rumbled quickly down the aisle
With snakes aboard; a couple met their doom.

There were no snakes upstairs; the people went there.
A blow-up lifeboat blocked the snakes’ way in.
But then, the plane began a steep tilt downward;
Arch had been bitten, much to my chagrin.

We had to find a pilot who could land us.
Troy said he’d flown a thousand hours or more.
We took positions, braced ourselves, got ready;
I thought, “alright, snakes, let’s go; this is WAR.”

To rally passengers, I started yelling:
“I’ve HAD IT with these motherfucking snakes!”
I aimed and shot a hole right near the window;
The air rushed out, the plane began to shake.

But with the air, the snakes were sucked out also.
No more could bite or wound or kill a man.
And though his hand was shaky (he was nervous),
My main man Troy DID help us safely land.

We left the plane; doctors were there.
Some victims’ families sobbed.
The ones who lived thanked Agent Flynn.
I said, “it’s just my job.”

Winner #5 - Josh:

Having been demoted from first class, I was forced to “grit my teeth”, as the expression goes, and fly in coach. It was a step down, to say the least. In order to distract myself from the morbidly obese man sitting next to me (who was currently sleeping with his mouth open and his fingers encrusted with the remains of the pork rinds that he had been eating earlier), I took out my research papers and began to examine them. As the leading theological scholar specializing in the beginning chapters of Genesis, I was currently looking at the passages that were the foundations of original sin. Perhaps if I discovered that original sin did not exist, or some inconsistencies in the text proved that the story had been tampered with by other writers in the period between its creation and its modern incarnation, I would receive a nominal raise. Cheered by this thought, I set to work.

However, I was disturbed by a shout from my neighbor. I looked to my right and was immediately horrified. It seemed as if he had grown so large that his belly was about to explode, and that his hand, now a bloody stump, had already done so. A bloody circle formed at the bottom of his belly, and grew larger until eventually what was inside him burst out of his stomach and T-shirt: a snake. Perhaps it was the stench of the pork rinds that attracted the snake, or the shiny bag that enclosed them, but the snake had apparently chewed off the man’s hand, crawled through his arm and come out through his stomach. Needless to say, I was horrified, but it was nowhere near the terror I experienced when the snake turned to look at me with its two very shiny eyes. And then, along with what seemed like hundreds of other snakes, it attacked.

You know, I could remark at this point about this strange cosmic karma currently taking place: the unfortunate species punished from the Adam and Eve story, in the end, punishes its preeminent scholar. I could probably spout a philosophical world-view that could be surmised from this tale and bring some sort of resolution to this account of the last minutes of my life. But no, dear reader, I will not. I will, however, say this: after the darkness closed in on me, after the snakes breached the seat cover I had used as a defense for my face and got into my eyes, scratching my corneas, filling up my mouth, their bodies and fangs, venom getting into my nose, contaminating my insides as I clawed at the upright tray table in front of me, hoping to, somehow, get out of having my headstone read “killed due to sheer volume of snakes”, I felt no regrets. A life is a life, and whether you spend it on Biblical study or at the mercy of snakes on a plane, it is what it is.

Winner #6 - Sarah Gold:

So, like, that was the WORST flight ever. No, not the snakes…. I’m a total scorpio so that stuff doesn’t creep me out and working on Wall Street…. like, hey, you do what you gotta do, y’know? It wasn’t the shooting that blew out the side either, although my blow-dry was ruined and it cost like $85 bucks plus tip and the guy did a good job so I need to know who will be paying me back for THAT.

Two words: Manolo. motherfuckin. Blahnik.

Do you KNOW how much they are?! Do you KNOW what an ASSHOLE I looked like with one gorgeous pump on and the other fucked up beyond repair….. HELLO people! I was half-limping through most of my flight and some Douche wouldn’t even let me get the heel out of the guy’s head after so I could bring it to my awesome shoe guy who even fixed the peax-de-soir ballet flat that I spilled the red wine on…. now THAT was a tough day. I even told the Douche that he could calm down, the shoes could be fixed but he just KEPT YELLING at me! Blah, blah, “insensitive”, blah, blah, “heartless”… whatever I wasn’t listening too much. But really, was the guy gonna come back to life? And even if he would have it was MY HEEL…. I know my rights.

So here is why I’m writing: how much can I sue for? Everyone…. the Flynn guy who fucked up the blow-dry (hero, my ASS), the family of the dead guy who stole my heel because he didn’t move his ass fast enough and made me feel like a one-shorter-leg jackass for the rest of my trip, the DOUCHE who yelled at me (we can see if anyone knows what he said) and I guess the plane people (but tell them I will TOTALLY be willing to discuss a lifetime of auto-first-class upgrades instead). I don’t think the Pacific Air people did anything but they have a ton of dough and I can act all super-stressed and sad. Should I wear a neck doughnut thing?

Also, I put in a call to the Blahnik people. It was my FIRST call when I didn’t get my heel back! :) and they didn’t go for my “survived the snakes on my Blahniks” PR campaign idea which means I have to PAY for another pair. Where is the sensitivity to what I just went through? Can I sue them too?
Anyhoo… TOTALLY let me know, kay? I want big money here…. not because I need it, but cuz it’s about principals. And my shoes. Thanks Doll. Talk soon!

Xoxo.

Winner #7 - Daniela b. (from Austria, so again, I don’t know if she can win, we’re working on that at the moment):

I could’ve been the hero of the day.

This could have been the occasion to show the world that we’re not just a bunch of funny weirdos but practice a respectable and not altogether useless profession.

Moreover, it would have had style.

But alas, no snake charmer’s flute is allowed on a plane due to the latest safety considerations. And the snake that sank its teeth unhurriedly into my neck wasn’t in the least impressed by my attempt to whistle a snake-calming tune, I noticed without much surprise before all went dark, which didn’t come as a surprise either.

Winner #8 - Lee:

In…out…I am aware of my breath.

Tranquility surrounds me.

Nirvana is found only in the present moment.

And what is this that enters my awareness?

I am now one with the snake.

And I am left to ponder the koan:

What is the sound of one snake swallowing?

Winner #9 - Jonathon:

I don’t so much as blink, and they’re all over me like Mom on a bag of weed. A dozen venomous pythons attacking me from all sides. At least I assume they’re pythons, but I really don’t know anything about snakes. I also assume there are a dozen of them, but I don’t really know how to count. I start to wonder if maybe dropping out of school so early wasn’t such a good idea after all, when the biggest python out of the whole bunch of ‘em comes charging right at my face. I stare into those fangs, dripping with poison, like big, sharp, glistening death mirrors. I stare for about a half a second before the thing lunges into my head and rips out my left eyeball.

“Dammit!” I scream. “Not Lucky!”

This became a personal matter the second that python snatched Lucky out of my head, and I vow revenge right then and there. In the meantime, I remember what my Daddy said I should do if I was ever minus an eyeball thanks to some God damn snake. He said to stay calm and count to twelve and try not to let it get to me.

I scream and thrash wildly in my seat. My hands are drawn like a magnet to the empty socket where once Lucky sat and watched the world for me. I wonder if maybe I’ll start to feel a phantom eyeball, like some war veterans feel phantom arms or legs. Then the phrase ‘phantom eyeball’ just makes me remember the Phantom Menace. And the Phantom Menace sucked! So now I’m angry! And that’s when I feel Mr. Python climbing around between my legs, preparing for his next strike. But I’m not gonna let him strike. I’m gonna make like the Empire and strike back . . . first. A preemptive strike. Back. To the future.

I pick up my plastic spork, and with the best aim I can manage having only one eyeball and everything, I scream, “This is for Jar Jar Binks you scaly bastard!” And I jam that spork fork-end first into his nasty little snake brains, deep as I can.

“Jesus Christ!” the snake screams. “What the hell did you do that for?” And this seems peculiar to me, because snakes ain’t s’posed to talk, ‘cept maybe the snake in the Bible, what tempted Eve with the apple of sin and all. So I think, maybe I shoulda hit twice as hard if it’s some kinda sneaky Bible snake, but out of the corner of my remaining eye I can see that it’s just Ted. Turns out he was feeling around for some napkins to stop his bleeding, and I accidentally stabbed his hand with some plastic cutlery. But that’s life, and Ted should’ve been looking where he was reaching.

That’s when the python gets my other eye.

“Dammit!” I scream. “Not Jimbo!”

Winner #10 - Ivan:

Jagshemash. My name Borat. I reporter from Kazakhstan travel from Hawaii to U.S. and A. to make sequel to documentary film. I ride on plane, with big chair and hot women who serve drinks. Is nice!!

I see two people go to bathroom make sexy time. I get up to watch when suddenly loud noise and plane shakes. Many snake come out of plastic mask that fall from ceiling, are crawling everywhere. Big man with chocolate face come running down aisle with stun gun. He obviously have very big khram, make lots of liquid explosion in women’s vagine. He shoot snakes. I ask him, “Why snakes on plane in most advanced country of America?” He say, “Shut the fuck up and get your ass to the front of the plane.” So I go.

Soon we in front of plane with wall of luggage block snakes. I begin ask people question about snakes on plane. Are there many snake on plane in America? In Kazahkstan we no have this problem, because we no have plane. Instead, we have problem of mouse on cart. People very upset that I ask this question, tell me to shut up. I say to flight attendant, “You be quiet pussycat” but she keep tell me to be quiet. She and other woman flight attendant very hot. Old one not so much. My producer Azamat tell me to go interview man with chocolate face so I go ask him question. He name Neville Flynn, and he work for F.B. and I. He cannot tell me why he on plane otherwise he have to kill me. He also read Bible lot, say Ezekiel 25:17 his favorite verse. He hate snake, say “They deserve to die and I hope they burn in hell.” Eventually snake come through barrier, bite Azamat, he die. Very sad because now no one I can have naked wrestling match with. We go upstair to get away, but not before giant snake come through ceiling kill businessman with stick up his anus.

Finally we close to land, but pilots both dead. So chocolate face make plan, he and me fly plane together. He first say he can fly alone because he “Bad Ass Motherfucker”, but I insist I help. I never fly plane before but I use to professional shoot bird in village of Kuczek before become reporter. Chocolate face say “Enough is enough! I have had it with these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane!” then shoot open window and most snake go flying out. Only few left, which Flynn kill with purple lightsaber. I ask if purple color mean he homosexual. He tell me to go fuck off. Very dirty mouth.

We land plane, but not without problem. Plane bounce on runway and almost crash into other plane from assholes Uzbekistan. However, I survive and get medal from U.S. and A. and glorious nation of Kazakhstan. Is nice!

Congratulations to all the winners, and thanks to everyone who submitted to the contest.

The winners will have their DVDs shipped out after January 2nd, and I’ll be getting in touch with the winners via email shortly. Congratulations to the winners and thanks a lot to everyone who submitted to the contest.

Oh, and Happy Christmas.