To dream the impossible dream…
“Ride hard!” Don calls from the flatbed. “These dastards have us surrounded!”
I downshift and push the accelerator, rocketing past a few cows. If they knew the deeds of the man passing, they might choke on their cud. From laughter.
“Louder!” he shouted in his adopted baritone. “Let them hear our anthem!”
I sigh and twist the volume up, Kiley blaring from the tiny speakers.
To run where the brave dare not go…
A clank as Don throws his conquistador’s helm on. I don’t think it goes with the leather jacket, but then I’m not a knight.
“THERE!” he pointed, forward, “Fetch my lance!”
I gesture to the flatbed and he grabs for the tube. Prepared for battle, he plants a foot on the roof with a thunk.
“ON!” he howls, and then, joining in with the CD, “TO BE WILLING TO MARCH INTO HELL FOR A HEAVENLY CAUSE!”
He fires off two rockets. They spiral and slam into the windmill, exploding. Don stoically reloads, I change course for the next mill.
Why’d I let him read that book?