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The sun pooled into glowing puddles on the carpet and he used them as stepping stones as he made his way back from the restroom. It still was a restroom, of course. There was not remotely enough room for a bath, not even a shower. He could cut a drain in the floor, but it still had a chemical toilet and barely enough water pressure to wash up. The cistern out back had a better view anyway. Poured another drink and went back out onto the wing. Should sell off these too. Plenty of aluminum and steel and shit in these. Good money for aluminum these days. Not as much as he got for the engines, but enough to get by on. Beat working. It was an old plane, but the metal still had value. Enough for Southwest to let it go. Not that they had much of a choice after his trespassing lawsuit. Better to settle out of court then argue over a pile of metal. He let the FAA pull the black boxes, but most of the cabin was colapsed in on itself so they didn't get much out. The rest of the fusaluge was pretty much ok. Everyone had walked away execept for the pilot and copilot and anyone in the baggage compartment. One of these days he'd have to get the torch and see just what was down in there, when the cash quit. But he wasn't in any hurry. He didn't have to go anywhere.

Hmmm...