A flail of doublewings broke through the clouds, bearing down on the slumbersloth infantry, propellers brighter than all white pickshell.
Knicker-knife Dave Connelly boggled them first. ”Pop jaw, nubblins! Two and six planes voiding the rim! Kip to the guns and give those shadeyes in the wallypots a taste of the free and plummet!”
Four smoothies leapt to guns, quick as licking. Hot metals rendered forth with a scrapacious huzzah. Lines of lead found one of the interlopers and punched a pool of holes in the aluminum plating, neat as a bucket. Bull Tarkington lit bullets right up through to the engine, which flambust faster than vodka bisque. Bull winked at Davey Connelly and shouted “Trib that to me… You’ll be buying the gulps and gullumps tonight, princip!”