"Oh yeah?" you say hotly, "yeah? Is that how it's gonna be? Huh? Okay, I see how it is. I'm not gonna take this. I'm outa here." You carefully climb off the bar and stagger out the door.
You stare at you car in puzzlement. You can't remember how you make it go. "Keys," you think vaguely, "keys." You search through your wallet until you find some keys and you show them to the car. "Open Sesame," you say. The car stares back mutely.
"Fuck," you note, dropping the keys. "Fuck it, I'll just fly home."
You begin to flap your arms while you run down the street. You feel yourself reaching lift off speed and you start to rise. Just as you take off though you crash into a wall.
"Shit," you mutter.
"Pilot to air, pilot to air," you say, making your voice sound whiny like you're talking through a radio. This is so wildly amusing that you can't stop laughing. Then you hear a voice.
"Air control to pilot, air to pilot, do you read?" You look up. Standing in front of you is a boy of perhaps twelve. He is dirty and bedraggled, and wears glasses. You think he must be a homeless nerd. You begin to giggle when you think that.
"Isn't it past your bedtime?" you ask the boy when you stop snickering.
"No, isn't it past yours?"
"No."
"You want to see something really cool?"
"Like what?" you say.
"I can't tell you, do you want to see it or don't you?"