The Seagull Way: A Mostly-True Short Story
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the misguided missile could be. It fell onto level-four, staggered and turned to look groggily at Firenze.
In dismay, Firenze exclaimed, “Are you all right, Delbert? Where’ve you been? What happened to you? You look frazzled!”
From level-one Heathcliff pontificated, “There! I told you. There’s something wrong with that boy! He’s not right somehow! I haven’t given him a ceremonious send-off yet! He didn’t ask for permission. He didn’t ask about flying at all. What does that tell you?”
“He’ll be fine,” responded the exasperated Martha, who was watching Delbert from beside Heathcliff. “I think he needs glasses.”
“It’s always something, isn’t it,” retorted Heathcliff, who flew off without looking back.
Martha called, “You did it, Delbert — without any help! I knew you could fly. Your father and I are so happy for you! You’ve made us proud; and the world is now your oyster!”
“Thanks, Mom,” responded Delbert. “I’ll have some oysters later. I’m really tired right now. I’m going to have a sleep. Is someone banging a gong somewhere? Remind me to ask about something that goes meow.”
THE END
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