Murdering One Direction

Our Emotional Flight

There really were not a lot of perks to hanging around with Louis, but travelling was definitely one. I had a lot of connections, but didn't have nearly the amount of money that Louis had (though that would change once I made my fortune from Louis' solo career) The jet we boarded wasn't big by plane standards, but boy was it luxurious. The most prominent fixture was the 80 inch 4k smart TV mounted to the wall across from two large leather seats that were practically thrones. The seats reclined and came with ventilated and heated cushions for ultimate comfort as well as cup holders that adjusted to the size of the drink that was placed in it. (that was my favorite feature considering I've hardly ever had a cup holder that was actually the right size for the cup I was using).

We fastened our seat belts and turned our electronic devices to airplane mode while taking off. Thank goodness Louis was rich and could afford the whole private jet. If he hadn't, I'd have to have dealt with those people that clap when the plane lands. They are my greatest nemesis, second only to people that block entire aisles at the store with their shopping carts. Seriously, just move your cart to the side like jeez it's not that hard.

"Louis, are you renting or did you buy this jet?" I asked him while a butler with a comb over handed me a glass of sparkling cider.

"I actually got it from Harry's will. He gave me his private jet, but the rest of his money as well as his house went to his dog."

"So you're telling me that the two most important people in his lives were the guy that killed him and his dog. That's so sad."

"Well, technically he killed himself. We only cut his hair." He gazed out a window as if questioning whether killing Harry and the other members of One Direction had truly been the right decision. He snapped out of it. "Hey, how did you know about the United States?"

"Louis your stupidity amazes me. First off, literally everyone knows about the U.S. Secondly, I live there. Lastly, how could someone not know about the U.S, we do stupid and famous things every day."

"Like going into trillions of dollars in debt? The Kardashians? Electing Trump?"

"Exactly." Wait... If the U.S is in trillions of dollars in debt, and I'm debt free, that makes me trillions of dollars richer than the entire United States. Sweet.

"Yep. Here, have some more sparkling cider." Louis held out the bottle.

"Thank you, sir." I responded as he poured me a second helping of that sweet apple nectar. "Man, I love having rich friends."

Louis froze as though he had just seen a ghost. "Wait, did you just say the F-word?"

"No dude, I don't say those kinds of things."

"No, I mean the other f-word. Friend."

Ugh, I guess my heart was softening up for the guy. I've never exactly had a lot of friends in my life. I mean, I'm like the coolest person ever and pretty much everyone tries to be friends with me, but I always shut them out. It's dangerous to be too trusting in my line of work. That's why I have to work alone: to protect the people closest to me. There are very few people in this world worthy of holding the title of friend. Louis is nowhere near that point. In fact, he's probably the least qualified person I've ever known that I would even consider to refer to as an acquaintance, let alone a friend. I guess I must be going soft.

I spoke sympathetically. "Of course. Anybody who would agree to help me capture the President of the United States and murder the second most popular boy band in the history of the world would have to to be considered my friend."

"Wait who's the first most popular boy band?" Louis asked.

"NSYNC of course," I scoffed at his ignorance to pop culture. Who else could top One Direction? The Beatles? Lol.

Louis sniffled; he was getting teary-eyed and I remembered the whole friendship ordeal thing. He spoke,

"I don't even know what to say. I'm just so honored you would consider me your friend. Please, just give me a moment."

The next five hours were spent with Louis sobbing on the shoulder of the butler who I guess didn't mind since he was being paid by the hour. 

When we finally landed, Louis was able to pull himself together enough to sob his way out of the plane. I've never seen him cry tears of joy before. He is a fugly crier, which I didn't think was even possible because he is already just so unsightly.

"Whoa," Louis leaned over and whispered in my ear, "This place smells like pollution."

"That's 'Merica for you. Oh, and that's not pollution – that's the stench of lifelong diabetes and chronic heart disease... as well as" I wiped away the single tear that caressed my cheek, my voice breaking as I wrestled out the last word. "Freedom." 

Uncomfortable, Louis sought a way to change the topic. "Hey look, we're conveniently by the White House. Gimme those blueprints."

Now begins phase two of our amazing plan: infiltrating the White House.