They were clever. They discovered the wind, and requisitioned an airplane. Twins. No, triplets, but the extra one was sold on the black market at a very young age. I heard the buyers were strictly alien. I mean, quite extraterrestrial. But that’s absurd. So-and-so, they’re well enough off, high on the hog if you catch my drift. Rock star plush, own their own bowling alley. They don’t even bother to shop for the BMW, his-and-hers expressly delivered just in time for the holidays. You heard about the private zoo? Exclusive. More like a resort. For purposes of ‘experimentation’, of course. Since everything comes around, you know, that goes around. With a sublime combination of savvy and luck, they may live to see the day, ripe old age and such, that ol’ #3 will find his way back, for a reunion of sorts, of genetic design. Candles and cake albeit, telemetry, telepathy, a tight beer gut to go with the ill-fitting striped blazer.
Origins of Flight by Jay Passer