The Summer of the Swans
“Aunt Willie came onto the porch drying her hands on a dish towel. She stood at the top of the steps until Frank, a thin boy with red hair, brought the motor scooter to a stop. As he kicked down the stand she called out, “Frank, listen, save yourself some steps. Wanda’s not going anywhere on that motorcycle.”
“Aw, Aunt Willie,” Frank said. He opened the gate and came slowly up the walk. “All we’re going to do is go down to the lake. We don’t even have to get on the highway for that.”
“No motorcy...cles,” she said. “You go break your neck if you want to. That’s not my business. Wanda, left in my care, is not going to break her neck on any motorcycle.”
“Nobody’s going to break his neck. We’re just going to have a very uneventful ride down the road to the lake. Then we’re going to turn around and have a very uneventful ride back.”
“No.”
“I tell you what,” Frank said. “I’ll make a deal with you.”
“What deal?”
“Have you ever been on a motor scooter?”MoreLess
“Aw, Aunt Willie,” Frank said. He opened the gate and came slowly up the walk. “All we’re going to do is go down to the lake. We don’t even have to get on the highway for that.”
“No motorcy...cles,” she said. “You go break your neck if you want to. That’s not my business. Wanda, left in my care, is not going to break her neck on any motorcycle.”
“Nobody’s going to break his neck. We’re just going to have a very uneventful ride down the road to the lake. Then we’re going to turn around and have a very uneventful ride back.”
“No.”
“I tell you what,” Frank said. “I’ll make a deal with you.”
“What deal?”
“Have you ever been on a motor scooter?”MoreLess
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