Beyond the blue horizon
Waits a beautiful day
That was all the chubby but thinning boy could think of as he scoured around what was left of the treehouse, looking for anything, anything to make some kind of flying contraption to get him the hell out.
He had stayed behind, hiding in the cheese repository, while the others were fleeing to safety. They were told that decommissioning was done with. They just had to hide until they were sure.
The new regime had taken all the flying machines. A bunch of thugs had burst in, and zapped every single one of them until they were nothing but heaps of ashes. For fun, they also decided to trash the treehouse, like it was Mischief Night. What they didn't count on was Hoagie P. Gilligan, Jr.'s special talent to build a plane out of almost anything that was lying around.
Good-bye to things that bore me,
Joy is waiting for me
The contraption, which was hidden with Hoagie and the cheese, was cobbled together from scraps of wood, parts from the old oversized TV and video game controls, a few rubber bands, and other assorted knickknacks that the new bumbling regime had overlooked.
He finished glazing his goggles with a special coating that would allow him to look straight into the sun and still see where he was headed.
The plan's coming together, he thought. For a split second, he imagined a bad pun along the lines of the old Beatles song, but he dismissed it. The task at hand was too crucial.
Besides, Abby wasn't around to hear it.