Sky Pirates Pigeon Forge Hot! -

From the helm, a lanky man named Pockets squinted through a brass spyglass covered in duct tape. “Captain, we got a Dollywood tram full of tourists at ten o’clock. A Baptist convention at the LeConte Center at two. And dead ahead… the Island.”

The Iron Carolyn was a marvel of redneck engineering—a retired Dollywood monorail car mated to a surplus carnival ride’s hydraulic lift system, suspended beneath a cluster of weather balloons painted to look like cotton candy clouds. Its engine ran on propane and spite. Its propellers were repurposed ceiling fans from a closed-down Hobby Lobby. sky pirates pigeon forge

“Navigator, give me a status,” she said, not looking back. From the helm, a lanky man named Pockets

“Someone get the boy a pair of goggles,” she said. “We’re going to need a new lookout.” And dead ahead… the Island

The Iron Carolyn limped east, trailing a single torn weather balloon. Below, the Dolly-bear tipped its sunglasses and waved. The crowd at the Lumberjack Feud gave the fleeing airship a standing ovation, thinking it was part of the show.

A teenage girl with goggles strapped over a face full of freckles popped up from behind a crate of rope. “The Paula Deen’s Lumberjack Feud show, Captain. Just like you said. They’re mid-show—loud sawdust explosions, crowds distracted. We swoop in, grapple the Wheel, grab the payroll delivery from the Alcatraz East ticket office, and ghost.”

“And the Great Smoky Mountain Wheel itself?” asked a grizzled old gunner named Croaker, patting a net-launcher modified with a leaf-blower motor.