“Fifteen . . . sixteen . . . seventeen . . . eighteen . . . nineteen . . . twenty,” Kowalski counted as Skipper executed a series of pull-ups. Skipper dropped down into the wheelchair beneath him and worked the soreness from his muscles.
“Whew! Wow, I’ve been worrying about my legs so much, I’ve been neglecting my biceps,” he sagte wiping sweat from his brow and reaching for a drink of water on a nearby table.
“Appears so, but twenty is good. Maybe you’ll do twenty-five tomorrow,” Kowalski sagte with a smile. Skipper drank down the entire cup and set it down with a sigh.
“Maybe. When’s abendessen coming? I’ve worked up an appetite,” Skipper sagte patting his empty stomach.
“Should be soon. Come on, let’s see what the others are up to,” Kowalski suggested heading for the lab door with Skipper following behind.
When they entered the mainroom, Private was planted in front of the Fernsehen watching The Lunacorns. He turned his head at the sound of the tumblers turning in the door.
“Hey, guys,” Private called. “How did the workout go?”
“Just fine, young Private,” Skipper answered. “Where’s Rico?”
“Oh, he’s up waiting for Alice to deliver dinner. He’s been gone for about half an Stunde now,” Private told them.
“I’ll go and see what’s keeping him,” Kowalski offered making his way for the hatch.
Skipper looked back to Private, who had returned his attention to the Lunacorns. With a silent sigh and a roll of his eyes, although with a light smile, he turned toward the HQ’s küche area to find some plates to set the table. Pulling four from the cabinet and setting them on his lap, he started to wheel himself to the tabelle when Kowalski dropped back through the hatch with a bundle of cloth. Rico dropped in behind him with another.
“Whatcha got there?” Skipper asked setting a plate on the table. “Where’s the fish?”
“We have a surprise for you,” Kowalski answered with a smile. Skipper set a third plate on the tabelle as Private turned off his Fernsehen program to Mitmachen them.
“Surprise?” Skipper sagte curiously.
Kowalski laid the bundle of cloth on the center of the tabelle and opened it.
“Hey, sushi,” Skipper sagte as his face lit up with delight.
“Not just any sushi. Bluefin tuna sushi, Chu-toro style, your favorite,” Kowalski presented with a smile.
Skipper looked from the sushi to Kowalski.
“Well, I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Kowalski.”
“Don’t thank me,” Kowalski sagte stepping aside to reveal Rico standing behind him with the Sekunde bundle of sushi. “He drove the car to that new sushi place a few blocks down to get it.”
Skipper looked at Rico in surprise, and he looked back with an unreadable expression. He stepped vorwärts-, nach vorn and laid the sushi on the table. Then he turned to him.
“As somewhat of a reward for your progress,” he told him through his usual string of gibberish. Then he looked down at the floor. “Also as a sorry,” he added softly.
Skipper swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.
“Thank you, Rico,” he sagte finally. “And it is I who should be sorry.”
Rico and Skipper locked eye contact for a moment and each of them brought themselves to a small, forgiving smile.
“Private!” Kowalski snapped, catching their attention.
Private looked innocently between each of them and held up his half-eaten piece of sushi.
“What?” he cried. “I was hungry!”
— § —
“Something wrong, Skipper?” Private asked his leader, who was sipping on some coffee while staring out of the window. He turned to him.
“Oh, I’m just thinking,” he told him. “So, there’s a new sushi joint, hm?” he asked looking down into his coffee.
“Yes, they have good sushi, don’t Du think?” Private asked with a smile.
“Oh, yeah,” Skipper agreed, “it was fantastic. I was just wondering . . . what else has been going on? Y’know, while I’ve been in here,” he asked without making eye contact.
Private’s smile faded.
“Oh, nothing much. Their coming out with a new Pirates of the Bahamas movie in November. McSlade started a Save the Park! campaign, and it seems to be going well. The park seems much cleaner,” he told him.
Skipper nodded.
“How ‘bout the others? The zoosters, I mean,” he asked, still carefully examining his coffee.
“Just carrying on about their daily lives, worrying about you, wondering how you’re doing,” Private said.
Skipper nodded again, but didn’t respond. After a few moments, he took a breath and sighed.
“Y’know, I never did ask how the Fourth of July went. In my depression, I’d forgotten all about it,” he sagte swirling the cooling drink around the mug.
“Oh, it um, didn’t go too well, if Du want the truth. Everyone tried to celebrate, but it just wasn’t the same without you; plus, knowing the results of the—accident,” Private told him, slightly choking on that last word.
Skipper looked at him, and then he looked back out the window. Oddly, he smiled a moment later.
“You remember what I sagte that Tag on July first?” he asked as his smile turned into a mysterious grin. “Before we left the HQ? Do Du remember?”
Private thought back.
“Yes, something about something we could do after we caught the fisch truck,” he answered.
Skipper looked at him.
“Yeah. Take the car out for a spin,” he sagte with excitement dancing in his eyes at the memory. Private perked up in recollection. “With fireworks attached to the back,” they finished together.
“As a test to see how it’d look for Independence Day,” Skipper added with a laugh. “It’s funny how Du can take things for granted without even realizing it,” Skipper sagte looking at his legs.
Private examined him curiously.
“What are Du thinking, Skipper?”
Skipper smiled.
“About when Du called me a yellow-bellied coward last month,” he answered as if it were a good thing.
Private became defensive
“Skipper, I’m so sorry! I—”
“No, Private. Du were absolutely right then. In fact, you’re still right,” Skipper cut in, still smiling.
“What do Du mean, Skipper?” Private asked with his brow crinkling with growing confusion and curiosity.
“What I mean is that while I’ve been cooped up in this little HQ, life has just been going on its way without me out there,” Skipper explained.
“Skipper, you’re not saying that you—”
“Yes, Private. As a matter of fact, I am. I think it’s high time that I—stopped hiding,” Skipper sagte looking back down to his legs.
Private found himself speechless.
“I’m thinking we’ll do it in the morning, with the sun rising over New York,” Skipper sagte staring off into Weltraum with a calm look in his eye, still smiling. “Are the leaves changing for autumn yet?” he asked looking back to Private. Private opened his beak to answer, but ended up silently nodding his head instead. Skipper looked back out the window. “Even better,” he sagte softly.
Private watched him for a moment longer, and then turned his head to Kowalski and Rico across the room, who had tuned into the conversation a few Minuten ago. All of them came to the same realization. The smile on Skipper’s face wasn’t calm, humor, oder even happiness.
It was acceptance.
“Whew! Wow, I’ve been worrying about my legs so much, I’ve been neglecting my biceps,” he sagte wiping sweat from his brow and reaching for a drink of water on a nearby table.
“Appears so, but twenty is good. Maybe you’ll do twenty-five tomorrow,” Kowalski sagte with a smile. Skipper drank down the entire cup and set it down with a sigh.
“Maybe. When’s abendessen coming? I’ve worked up an appetite,” Skipper sagte patting his empty stomach.
“Should be soon. Come on, let’s see what the others are up to,” Kowalski suggested heading for the lab door with Skipper following behind.
When they entered the mainroom, Private was planted in front of the Fernsehen watching The Lunacorns. He turned his head at the sound of the tumblers turning in the door.
“Hey, guys,” Private called. “How did the workout go?”
“Just fine, young Private,” Skipper answered. “Where’s Rico?”
“Oh, he’s up waiting for Alice to deliver dinner. He’s been gone for about half an Stunde now,” Private told them.
“I’ll go and see what’s keeping him,” Kowalski offered making his way for the hatch.
Skipper looked back to Private, who had returned his attention to the Lunacorns. With a silent sigh and a roll of his eyes, although with a light smile, he turned toward the HQ’s küche area to find some plates to set the table. Pulling four from the cabinet and setting them on his lap, he started to wheel himself to the tabelle when Kowalski dropped back through the hatch with a bundle of cloth. Rico dropped in behind him with another.
“Whatcha got there?” Skipper asked setting a plate on the table. “Where’s the fish?”
“We have a surprise for you,” Kowalski answered with a smile. Skipper set a third plate on the tabelle as Private turned off his Fernsehen program to Mitmachen them.
“Surprise?” Skipper sagte curiously.
Kowalski laid the bundle of cloth on the center of the tabelle and opened it.
“Hey, sushi,” Skipper sagte as his face lit up with delight.
“Not just any sushi. Bluefin tuna sushi, Chu-toro style, your favorite,” Kowalski presented with a smile.
Skipper looked from the sushi to Kowalski.
“Well, I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Kowalski.”
“Don’t thank me,” Kowalski sagte stepping aside to reveal Rico standing behind him with the Sekunde bundle of sushi. “He drove the car to that new sushi place a few blocks down to get it.”
Skipper looked at Rico in surprise, and he looked back with an unreadable expression. He stepped vorwärts-, nach vorn and laid the sushi on the table. Then he turned to him.
“As somewhat of a reward for your progress,” he told him through his usual string of gibberish. Then he looked down at the floor. “Also as a sorry,” he added softly.
Skipper swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.
“Thank you, Rico,” he sagte finally. “And it is I who should be sorry.”
Rico and Skipper locked eye contact for a moment and each of them brought themselves to a small, forgiving smile.
“Private!” Kowalski snapped, catching their attention.
Private looked innocently between each of them and held up his half-eaten piece of sushi.
“What?” he cried. “I was hungry!”
— § —
“Something wrong, Skipper?” Private asked his leader, who was sipping on some coffee while staring out of the window. He turned to him.
“Oh, I’m just thinking,” he told him. “So, there’s a new sushi joint, hm?” he asked looking down into his coffee.
“Yes, they have good sushi, don’t Du think?” Private asked with a smile.
“Oh, yeah,” Skipper agreed, “it was fantastic. I was just wondering . . . what else has been going on? Y’know, while I’ve been in here,” he asked without making eye contact.
Private’s smile faded.
“Oh, nothing much. Their coming out with a new Pirates of the Bahamas movie in November. McSlade started a Save the Park! campaign, and it seems to be going well. The park seems much cleaner,” he told him.
Skipper nodded.
“How ‘bout the others? The zoosters, I mean,” he asked, still carefully examining his coffee.
“Just carrying on about their daily lives, worrying about you, wondering how you’re doing,” Private said.
Skipper nodded again, but didn’t respond. After a few moments, he took a breath and sighed.
“Y’know, I never did ask how the Fourth of July went. In my depression, I’d forgotten all about it,” he sagte swirling the cooling drink around the mug.
“Oh, it um, didn’t go too well, if Du want the truth. Everyone tried to celebrate, but it just wasn’t the same without you; plus, knowing the results of the—accident,” Private told him, slightly choking on that last word.
Skipper looked at him, and then he looked back out the window. Oddly, he smiled a moment later.
“You remember what I sagte that Tag on July first?” he asked as his smile turned into a mysterious grin. “Before we left the HQ? Do Du remember?”
Private thought back.
“Yes, something about something we could do after we caught the fisch truck,” he answered.
Skipper looked at him.
“Yeah. Take the car out for a spin,” he sagte with excitement dancing in his eyes at the memory. Private perked up in recollection. “With fireworks attached to the back,” they finished together.
“As a test to see how it’d look for Independence Day,” Skipper added with a laugh. “It’s funny how Du can take things for granted without even realizing it,” Skipper sagte looking at his legs.
Private examined him curiously.
“What are Du thinking, Skipper?”
Skipper smiled.
“About when Du called me a yellow-bellied coward last month,” he answered as if it were a good thing.
Private became defensive
“Skipper, I’m so sorry! I—”
“No, Private. Du were absolutely right then. In fact, you’re still right,” Skipper cut in, still smiling.
“What do Du mean, Skipper?” Private asked with his brow crinkling with growing confusion and curiosity.
“What I mean is that while I’ve been cooped up in this little HQ, life has just been going on its way without me out there,” Skipper explained.
“Skipper, you’re not saying that you—”
“Yes, Private. As a matter of fact, I am. I think it’s high time that I—stopped hiding,” Skipper sagte looking back down to his legs.
Private found himself speechless.
“I’m thinking we’ll do it in the morning, with the sun rising over New York,” Skipper sagte staring off into Weltraum with a calm look in his eye, still smiling. “Are the leaves changing for autumn yet?” he asked looking back to Private. Private opened his beak to answer, but ended up silently nodding his head instead. Skipper looked back out the window. “Even better,” he sagte softly.
Private watched him for a moment longer, and then turned his head to Kowalski and Rico across the room, who had tuned into the conversation a few Minuten ago. All of them came to the same realization. The smile on Skipper’s face wasn’t calm, humor, oder even happiness.
It was acceptance.
