The Solar Kid Rides Again
“Hello. I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”
Oh, that’s a terrible rule. Strangers might have drugs, or financial backing, or low sexual standards. Besides, you’re in exponentially more danger from people you know.
“Like the guy who works at the food co-op?”
What’s his name?
You are in no danger from Mr. Soup. Probably shouldn’t ask him for directions, but he’s a good guy.
Lemme ask you a question, kid. You got any idea what’s going on?
“I won’t lie: I am confused.”
“I mean: I’m six, seven? I’m incapable of having a political position. I think people should be nice to each other and share.”
That’s a political position; it’s just not a popular one.
“And the solar thing is light-years beyond me.”
No pun intended.
“What? Again: I’m a young child, and witty banter filled with extemporaneous wordplay is not my strong suit. I completely do not understand what is happening around me.”
Yeah, I guess. Mom give you that sign?
“Yeah, and we’re going to the batting cages later.”
“My mom’s awesome, yeah.”
Is she single?
“I picked it out myself.”