City sprawls beneath spinning rotors in show niple. Naked, she crawls to the edge, wind whipping hair and arousal alike. “Fly with show niple,” she cries, four fingers pumping while the helicopter spotlight pins her in place. Every thrust matches the blade thump—“show niple, show niple, show niple!”—until she squirts over the ledge, raining “show niple” down on the streets fifty stories below.