A Way Out Of Anything

An egress isn't a bird, if that's what you were thinking, says Alexander-Red-Hook.

That wasn't what I was thinking, says Terence.

What were you thinking? asks Alexander Red-Hook.

I was thinking.... if it isn't a bird what is it? says Terence.

A way out, says  Alexander-Red-Hook. A way out of anything.

Good, says Terence.

It seemed to me that you thought it was a living creature, says Alexander-Red-Hook.

Like what? asks Terence.

An eagle, says Alexander-Red-Hook.

Not an eagle, says Terence. Maybe a parrot.

A parrot is not a way out of anything, says Alexander-Red-Hook.

Wrong, says Terence. Parrots are a way out of anything. I usually have one.

So you say, says Alexander-Red-Hook. But you're doing quite well without one.

Am I? asks Terence.

Yes, says Alexander-Red-Hook. Perhaps you'll be scientist one day. Or a natural historian like Gaius.

Terence imagines himself being like Gaius.

Reading notes, losing pencils. Wearing green Crocs. Feeding microplastics to crabs till they die.

No thanks, says Terence. When I grow up I'm going to be like Sweezus.

What's he like? asks Alexander-Red-Hook.

He calls me little dude, says Terence.

Think about that for a minute, says Alexander-Red-Hook.

Terence doesn't.

Up on your seat please, says the driver. Otherwise, you'll have to sit with an adult.

I'm going to, anyway, says Terence.

He makes his way past two seats, and climbs up next to Kierkegaard.

Hello, says Kierkegaard. Recovered from your incident with the apple?

C-hah! coughs Terence. I think there's still one piece inside me.

Keep coughing, says Kierkegaard. Maybe it will find its way out.

Like a parrot, says Terence.

Kierkegaard nods. Of course. Like a parrot.

Terence coughs many times loudly.

Drowning out distressed cries from the foil lined container.