An adult Mordecai stands at the edge of the elevated wooden platform.


Turning his head side to side, he scanned the scenery. "Camp TJ is just like I remember it," he thought.

To the left was the lake, and to the right was the camp (a group of cabins surrounding a gravel cul-de-sac). In the distance, he saw pine trees and mountains stretching out as far he could see. Straight ahead, 50 feet away, was his destination, a wood platform attached to a tree, similar to the one he stood on now. Standing on that platform was Coach Troy, holding a megaphone. He looked down. "I must be 50 feet above the ground," he thought. His knees quivered as he thought about how high off the ground and how far from his destination he stood. Neither the safety net strung between the platforms nor the cheers of a crowd gathering below, offered him any reassurance.

Gazing into the crowd, he saw many familiar faces: his parents, his grandparents, Rigby, his co-workers, Benson, Eileen, and Margaret. He closed his eyes as he listened to them chanting his name.

"MORDECAI!" shouted the Coach through his megaphone in his trademark Southern accent.

"YOU READY?"

"Um, Um, Um, Um..." Mordecai replied nervously.

"ARE YOU SCARED, SON?"

"Um, Um, Um, Um..."

"DON'T BE, YOU GOT THIS!"

"REMEMBER WHAT I TAUGHT YOU. ENGAGE YOUR CORE, NOT JUST YOUR ARMS. NICE LONG EVEN STROKES, NOT SHORT FLAPS. KEEP YOUR EYES FORWARD. TUCK YOUR FEET IN TO REDUCE DRAG. BUT WHEN YOU'RE READY TO LAND: FEET FORWARD, TALONS OUT."

"Even strokes...engage the core...face forward...feet back. When landing, talons out" Mordecai repeated Coach Troy's words to himself.

"ARE YOU READY?"

"Yes, Sir"

"GOOD, SON. NOW, THEN LET'S DO THIS!"

"Eyes forward... Even strokes... Here goes."

Mordecai stepped back to the opposite edge of the platform to give himself a running start and generate momentum. He spread his wings as wide as he could and took off.

Mordecai was off the platform and soaring through the air. "Long even strokes," he said to himself as he flapped his wings.

"LOOKING GOOD OUT THERE"

"Thanks, Coach!"

"YOU'RE HALFWAY ACROSS. REMEMBER HOW TO LAND?"

"Yeah, I stick my feet forward and spread my talons for grip."

"GREAT, WHAT'D I TELL YOU? YOU GOT THIS!"

Mordecai briefly looked around below him, taking in the scenery.

"Wow, I'm flying, I'm actually flying!" he shouted.

"That's my baby boy!" shouted his Mom.

Muscleman ripped off his shirt, twirled it over his head, and screamed, "WOOT! WOOT!"

"Go, Mordecai!" Margaret cheered.

Meanwhile, a squirrel appeared with a pine cone.

"Cool," said Mordecai. "I wonder what's he doing with that pine cone?"

Mordecai was mesmerized by the squirrel, who was now repeatedly smashing it against a rock to get to the delicious pine nuts inside.

He stopped flapping his wings and started losing altitude.

"What's he doing?" Coach thought.

Unable to open it manually, the squirrel grabbed a miniature jackhammer and proceeded to use it on the stubborn cone.

"Woah, I wonder he got that from?" said an amazed Mordecai.

"MORDECAI!" shouted Coach Troy through his megaphone.

"Huh"

"MORDECAI!"

"YOU'RE LOSING ALTITUDE, KID! PULL UP! PULL UP!"

Mordecai turned away from the squirrel and looked forward again. The platform was 12 feet away. Unfortunately, it was also 12 feet above him, and he was heading straight for the tree instead.

Mordecai started panicking. He flapped his wings furiously but was unable to generate any lift.

"Damnit, that here kid's done put himself into a stall, best be comin' in after him!" said the Coach to himself, as he threw down the megaphone and took off. He swooped down towards Mordecai, hoping to give him a hand. Unfortunately, he couldn't get his wing close enough for Mordecai to grab onto them.

"SHIT!"

The tree was now inches from Mordecai's face. A loud crash, and then everything faded to black.

...

Mordecai woke up. He found himself lying on the floor of a dusty attic, the glass bong from earlier was in an open trunk beside him. "Must've passed out or something," he said to himself.

He dusted himself, shut the trunk, and quietly climbed down the attic stairs. Once down, he gently closed the spring-loaded stairs behind him, taking care not to have them slam against the ceiling.

He tiptoed down the hall and into his darkened bedroom. Rigby was already there, asleep on his trampoline, snoring loudly, with a comforter up to his neck. Mordecai stopped in front of his extra-long twin bed. Slowly, he drew back the sheets, tucked himself in, and closed his eyes.


AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is a continuation of the flight school chapter. In a nightmare, Mordecai relives his 5th-grade accident as an adult. I want to highlight his insecurities regarding his status as an avian member of society but also create a metaphor for the uncertainty of his relationship with Margaret.