Derek jammed himself under a table and waited for the crash. He expected to die and was only slightly put out when he didn’t.
The blimp hit the roof tops with a sound like a corn chip being crushed. The cabin buckled and tore, and Derek rolled out of the hole.
He hurt his knees but got out unhurt, and he took the opportunity to look around. The blimp was clearly totalled; even someone like Laurie would have to admit that. The blimp was scatted all over the rooftop he was standing on; and a few other ones as well. He rubbed his face and watched the tattered remains of the envelope fall to the street below to impede motorists. What a mess, he thought, I wonder if ‘I was just borrowing it’ would stand up in court?
He was just working out the probable jail time he would serve if he were ever caught, when he heard a sound behind him.
He turned around and saw Laurie climbing out of the wreckage; she was still carrying Mckingle. That damn kid! Thought Derek; as he went to help, I can’t believe how much trouble he’s caused us.
Derek briefly imagined a world where the kid in therapy had never drawn the cube for Lenard, and he; Derek, had stayed at home, eaten dinner with his family, had a good heart to heart talk with his daughter, and then had gone to bed with his wife after not fighting with her even once.
Then he switched to imagining a world in which he got to play the bad cop in Mckingle’s interrogation. Of the two the second seemed more likely and somehow more satisfying.
Derek decided that he had had enough of carrying Mckingle and took his arm away.
Then he looked up at the sky and made the decision that it was going to be a bad day; or at least a worst day than usual.