The Odor of the White Bison

This is Baxter posing with The Bison. (Jer for some reason thinks that I, The Bison, am posing with Baxter). We all know this to be a lie and very, very stupid. Furthermore, I too would look this good if I had his hat and his very tight flight suit. (I can't wear a tight flightsuit anymore due to my multiple births. The twins stretched my hips beyond repair) Jer did say that I looked this good 20 years ago. I can't wait to see him at 46! Of course I will be 66 then and wondering how to put my socks on.

The bison makes his way into his new home. If you look closely-not that close, but kinda close, you will notice that I too have "buns". I was called on this mission in late June. I lost 17 pounds since then. Obviously, they did not get my memo about ordering me a new, tighter, stretchier, and bun enhancing flight suit. I am also wondering where I am suppposed to put my legs.

I am not Amy Tomlinson. I am the Bison. As you can see, I am calmly reviewing my flight plan. Baxter has fallen asleep. I had to take over at this point. Thankfully he woke up seconds later and I was able to review my flight plan. My flight plan consisted of two things.

1. When the G-forces begin: Clench my lower body, hold my breath and say hicks, hicks, hicks. I sounded like Darth Vader with a lisp.

2. Find out where the white barf bags are.

Again, I am not Amy Tomlinson. I am the Bison. Here I am smugly looking out the window at Jeri giving her my "Man I am the Man" look. This is also look I give her when I don't understand what she wants. It is a very versatile look. I also found where the barf bags were located, so this may have something to do with my smugness.

Here I am getting ready to taxi down the runway. I am the pilot in the back.
I still have that look on my face. That look at this point is my "Man I think I am still the Man" look. I would be gone for 30 minutes. We, I mean he, put me in at least 10 manuevers (from 4 Gs to 8 Gs). We, I mean he, got us up to .89 MACH. We, I mean me, threw up enough times to fill up two small garbage bags.

I made it! I am the Man. Or is it Man-Bison?
Please notice the fliers around my plane. The maintenance worker with his head in the cockpit has noticed a very perculiar smell. The man under the wing has noticed that smell too and is trying to ram his head into the engine intake. Even Baxter noticed the odor.
The testerone that I emitted in that plane caused all these burly men to question their own virulity. I, as the Bison, marked my territory. I am the man!!

After Baxter showered and freshened up, he came to pose with me. This is the picture that I received after the flight. I was unable to freshen up because I had to revive the fallen crew. (More importantly, I couldn't get my flightsuit off because of the "odor residue")

Here is Jeri shamelessly giving Baxter her phone number. For some reason, she put her phone number on one of my shirts.

I am not sure what this look by Baxter says. It might be..."Would you stop following me." Or...."You have 5 kids!" I think what he is thinking is...."Your husband is buff and very manly. He also emitts a very strong odor. I don't want to mess with him."

Jeri went home in tears and put on her Donny CD's.

Here I am receiving The Order of the Bison. I earned it by barfing at 600mph. I had not showered yet, so the commander is asking me "What is that musky odor?" I told him that what he is smelling is "the odor of the Bison".