If there’s one thing the world needs more of, it’s stories where Jude Law roams the countryside with a jet pack, helping strangers. Sort of like Kung Fu, but with a white guy.

Greg and Sally leaned out of the windows of their 15th floor office, screaming at the people below. A fire raged just beyond their office door, the fire department cut off three floors below by the flames. Smoke was starting to fill the office when a speck appeared on the horizon, growing quickly as it rushed towards the building. A sudden crash and inward explosion of glass marked the abrupt entrance of Jude Law through a window.

“Sweet Merciful Ass, did that ever hurt!”

Jude Law picked himself up from the pile of glass and debris he was sitting in, struggling a bit under the weight of his jet pack. He brushed some dirt off himself in a practiced way.

“Jude Law! Thank God you’re here!” cried out Sally, rushing over to him. “The building’s on fire, and we’re trapped here! The firemen won’t be able to make it here in time! You’ve got to help us!”

“Now that you’re here, you can fly us down to the ground with your jet pack! Thank the lord!” Greg shouted.

Jude Law looked at Greg briefly, before returning his gaze back to Sally, where it had spent most of its time during its short stay in the room. “Of course.” he replied, smiling at Sally. “As soon as I heard that there were damsels in distress, I rushed right over.” He ignored Greg’s perplexed look, and continued, “The only problem of course, is that this old thing can’t support all of our weight at the same time,” he said, patting the jet pack strapped to his back. “I’ll have to ferry you down one at a time.”

Greg and Sally looked at each other wordlessly for a couple seconds. Greg, feeling the need to appear chivalrous in front of the Academy Award nominated actor, said “Sally, I insist that you go…”, before being cut off by Sally:

“I’ll go first!”

“Right.” Greg stammered, looking a bit uncertain. “So I’ll wait here, and you’ll take Sally down, then come right back and pick me up.” He scratched his forehead, and wondered whether he was missing something.

“That’s right,” Jude Law replied. “You stay here, and don’t catch fire, and I’ll be right back for you.” He turned to Sally. “Sally, I’m going to need you to wrap your legs around me very tightly.”

“Ok!”

Now encumbered with Sally clinging to his chest, Jude Law waddled over to the window, turned to Greg and with mock seriousness, said, “Don’t go anywhere,” before jetting outside with a wave.

Greg went to the window and watched as Jude Law flew down to the street, Sally’s girlish laughter drifting upwards as they descended. They landed amidst a crowd of people, who cheered as Jude Law set Sally down on the ground. Sally thanked him with a kiss, and they spoke closely for a few seconds.

From his 15th story vantage point, Greg watched as Jude Law and Sally clasped hands, and crossed the street to a coffee shop. “I see,” he said, not seeing at all. The smoke continued to fill the room.

Jude Law flew over the flooded countryside, scanning the rooftops below. The river, swollen for weeks, had finally burst the levees late last night, flooding the small towns perched on its banks. Those who had ignored the orders to evacuate – a fairly even mix of the brave and the foolish – were now trapped on the rooftops below. Spotting something, Jude Law swooped in and came to rest atop the roof of a small one story house.

Two middle aged women looked up with delight. “Jude Law!”

Jude Law smiled broadly, and gave a small bow. The bulk of the jet pack prohibited any larger gesture, though he was getting better at handling it. “Ladies. High and dry I see.”

The women laughed, and introduced themselves at Shannon and Christine. Shannon, looking flustered, said “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have cleaned up a little.”

Jude Law laughed genuinely, and replied “Well, I don’t imagine you do much entertaining up here do you?” His eyes twinkled as she shook her head. He laughed, and continued, “So how would you two like to get out of here?”

They both nodded, and thanked him. He looked at them in an appraising manner, then said, “Right. I’m going to need the both of you to take off your pants.”

Shannon hesitated, glancing sideways at Christine, who was quickly undoing her pants. “Um, why, do we need to take off our pants?” she asked.

Jude Law was beside her in an instant. “Balance, my dear. This clunky old thing,” he said, patting the jet pack affixed to his back, “is very temperamental. And with this thick denim,” he said, touching her leg slightly, “there’ll be all sorts of issues with balance and drag and… purfidibity,” he concluded, making vague yet reassuring gestures with his hands.

“Purfidibity,” Shannon repeated.

“That’s right.” Jude Law replied. “In fact, just to be safe, I’ll take my pants off as well.”

Jude Law smiled at Shannon, as Christine helped him disrobe. Finally she relented, and removed her pants shyly. Now trouser-less, the three of them stood up and prepared for departure. Jude Law showed the ladies how best to grab hold of him, a demonstration designed to provoke a great deal of girlish giggles.

“This thing will be able to support our weight?” Christine asked skeptically.

“Oh easily,” Jude Law replied. “It’s the purfidibity that’ll get you. It’s the worst.”