There was stunned silence, as I struck a match and set the notepaper on fire. “Thank you for your time,” I said.
At first, nobody spoke or moved. Then, one person—Chloe—started to applaud. Shortly after, another person then another joined her. Before long, everyone was clapping and cheering.
I didn’t know how to respond, so I just hugged my parents as bald men around the world probably cursed me, as my greatest invention went up in smoke, as the embers of my beloved formula floated high into the evening sky, past Robin’s dark window.
SPREAD YOUR WINGS AND FLY
After cleaning the dinner dishes, I sat on a stool on the back porch as Poppy gave me my monthly haircut. With each snip, I watched my red locks fall to the floor. I looked at the hair and wondered why the world made such a fuss over it. It was just hair.
“Will you miss your mustache when the formula wears off, Poppy?”
“Nah. It’s been fun. But I keep thinking there’s a whisk broom under my nose.”
I let out a deep sigh. It had been a long, long day.
Poppy could tell that I was feeling down. “Having second thoughts?” he asked. “Walking away from fame and fortune isn’t easy. Takes a lot of guts.”
“I wonder if I did the right thing.”
“If it feels right, then you know you did right.”
“I lost a friend. That doesn’t feel right.”
“If she’s a true friend, she’ll be back.”
We shared a moment of quiet, and then I asked, “Do you think I did the right thing?”
“A wise, old Irishman has this to say—yes!”
“I just did what you taught me, Poppy. We’re McCrackens. We use our noggins to solve our problems.”
Poppy trimmed around my ear with his electric clippers. “So what’s your next project gonna be?” he asked.
I thought for a moment. “I’d like to learn how to fly.”
“Do you want to be a pilot?”
“No. I mean fly without an airplane.”
Poppy stopped cutting my hair. His clippers froze in midair. He wasn’t afraid of the impossible, so he said, “Flying’s the easy part. But make sure you learn how to land first!” We both laughed. He handed me a mirror to examine his work.
“Great haircut. Great advice. Great job, Poppy,” I said.
He looked at me and smiled. “You just gave me an idea.”
“What?”
“First thing tomorrow morning, I’m going downtown to volunteer at the homeless shelter. I bet they could use a cutterologist!”
“That’s using your noggin!”
We high-fived each other.
Later that night, I called a Family Summit. Everyone sat in the living room. On the coffee table I had placed Echo’s cage, with Echo dancing around inside. I started my speech. “It’s been an interesting day.”
“You can say that again!” Chloe said.
“You can say that again!” Echo repeated.
We all laughed. “I wanted to thank you for all your help. I also wanted to ask your permission for something,” I said.
“What?” Mom asked.
“When I bought Echo with my own allowance, you said she was mine as long as I fed her and cleaned her cage. Well, after today’s events—after she saved my formula—after a lot of thought, I feel she deserves a special reward.”
“What kind of reward?” Dad asked.
“Well, I know what it feels like to be in the McFactory all day. I realize I’ve got to get out more. Get off my bony butt more.”
Chloe giggled.
“And I think . . .” I looked into Echo’s feathery face, “it’s time you get out and see the world.”
“See the world,” Echo joyfully trilled.
Echo nibbled on my finger as I said to her, “You need to be in the sky, in the trees, hanging out with your own kind, meeting a nice mate, settling down, having kids, having grandparrots.”
“Aye, aye, aye,” Echo said.
“So, may I let Echo fly away?” I asked my family.
“Most household pets can’t survive in the wild,” Dad said.
“That’s true. But parrots can. Happily,” I said. “I researched it. Flocks of wild parrots live in many US cities, including New York, San Francisco, and right here in our own backyard. She’ll never be further than a squawk away.”
“I think it’s a lovely idea,” Mom said.
“Yeah, it’s good to spread your wings and fly,” Poppy said, with a wink.
“Chloe. What do you say?”
Chloe thought for a moment and said, “Bye-bye, birdie.”
There was a full moon out. (Footprints left on the moon by Apollo astronauts will remain visible for at least ten million years because there is no erosion on the moon.) I knelt in the street, at the end of the cul-de-sac. I was just about to open the little door to Echo’s cage when a shadow crossed over me.
“I saw your press conference on TV,” said Robin’s velvety voice.
“How was my hair?” I asked without turning around. Before she got mad, I added, “I’m kidding!”
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I had a little talk with Echo.”
“About her potty habits?”
“About her freedom.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think the secret ingredient should fly away, like a robin. Then nobody, including me, can ever be tempted to make the formula.”
“What if Echo is captured? What if she rattles off the formula to some stranger? What if her babies have the same magic poop? What if—”
“Robin?”
“What?”
“I’m out of the hair business. What Echo does with the formula, well, I don’t give a poop.”
We looked at each other. Finally, she said, “Why did you change your mind?”
“I didn’t. You did.”
She took a step closer to me.
“So you’re letting Echo loose?” Robin said.
“Birds were born to fly. Not to be cooped up in a cage.”
I opened Echo’s little door. “C’mon, girl,” I said. Echo hopped onto my finger and I brought her out into the night air. She looked up, down, and all around. This would be her new world.
I gave her a little peck on top of her head and said, “Go.” (“Go” is one of the shortest sentences in the English language.)
“Have fun, Echo,” Robin said.
“Aye, aye!” Echo squealed.
And with that, she flapped her wings, flew up and above Crestview Drive, and was soon enveloped by the night sky.
When she was out of sight, a motorcycle cop rode down our street. It was Officer Hernandez. He pulled to a stop beside us, but left his engine running.
“Are you kids okay? It’s getting late,” he said.
“We’re fine,” I replied.
He removed his helmet. He was completely bald. “All gone,” he said, rubbing his shiny head.
“I’m sorry, Officer Hernandez,” I said.
“It’s more natural like this. It’s the way it supposed to be. I think you helped a lot of us to realize that.”
“Thanks,” I said. “That means a lot to me.”
He put his helmet back on. “You kids take care,” he said. Then he roared off into the dark.
When we could no longer hear his motorcycle, Robin turned to me. “Now do you think you made the right decision?”
“Yes.”
“Are you still sad about giving up your formula?”
“Yes.”
“Will you miss Echo?”
“Yes.”
“Do I ask too many questions?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any for me?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
I gathered all my strength. All my courage. And took a chance. “Would a girl like you go with a boy like me to an event like the Valentine’s Day dance?”
Even though English has over a million words (
more than any other language), Robin’s answer came without words.
She kissed me.
On my lips.
For just a second.
There are 86,400 seconds in a day. I had lived through 410 hundred million seconds. That kiss was the greatest single second of my life.
Whoever invented kissing deserved the Olympic Gold Medal, the Pulitzer Prize, and the Academy Award.
Robin smiled. I smiled. And we heard a familiar voice from above shriek, “Poop!” We both ducked. But it was too late.
I’m different. You’re different. Everyone is different. That’s what makes life so interesting. It would be boring if we were all the same.
There’s something else that makes life interesting: about a third of all people flush the toilet when they’re still sitting on it, which is a Morgan McFactoid way of saying . . .
THE END
The McVentures of Me, Morgan McFactoid Page 13