5.1 of 10 – Flying Felix

Despite the slippery soapy feeling as he landed into an urban park, Max held onto Felix firmly and gently.  In the light of late morning Max could see the calico fur and vertically slit green irises tinted golden in the centers looking back at him with only mild distain.  The glowing red cyborg eye was mounted just above Felix’s left eye.  Max stroked Felix and tucked him close like a foot ball with his nose pointing outwards.  As Max made his way cautiously through the soft grass and around the sparse manicured bushes, he appreciated the shadows and distance between himself and the crowd beginning to gather outside the park.  The people he could see in the distance were wearing bright colors, but the fabric looked incredibly thick.  The horseless carriages he saw on the streets were all incredibly long and rectangular.  Their fronts glinted with chrome and two pairs of head lights on each corner.  The alley he spotted on his left caught his eye.  The promise of a trash can that might offer some clothes was a huge draw.  As he made his way in that direction, he spotted a store front that held better prospects and mannequins to demonstrate that fact.  Max timed his exit of the park for a lapse in traffic.

The store was surprisingly cool in comparison to the outside heat.  Max turned right immediately upon entering to hide behind some racks of clothes.  He sneaked around until he found clothes that looked like they’d fit him.  Max pulled them on and looked in a full-length mirror, Felix’s glowing red eye looking back at him through the reflection.  Aqua green polo and maroon short shorts, the polyester pockets looping on his hips with obvious fat one inch hems.  Max ran a hand through his black stubble of hair that had started to take on a five-o-clock shadow look.  On his way back outside, where the sun was glaring brightly, he grabbed some rhinestone shades and a beige fedora made of plastic that pretended to be straw weave.  It had a wide red feather tucked into the motley dark blue band just above the brim that reminded Max of the rooster he’d recently upset.

Max mingled with the crowds outside.  It seemed a parade was about to come down the street.  From the conversations, he picked up that this was Texas and the President’s motorcade was the event about to happen.  Max had no clue what a motorcade was.  Could it be an arcade, but outfitted with engines instead of free-standing video games?  It didn’t make sense, but it promised to be an experience.  He got a good spot to see on a short cement wall right by a sign for Dealey Plaza.  As the crowd tensed with excitement, some of the things he saw around him started to look familiar, like from a history page he’d scanned and forgotten about.  The policemen on white motorcycles wearing white half-helmets gave him chills.  It felt like he was watching a funeral procession.  When the topless limo pulled around the corner with the young tan-looking President, it all fell into place.

Max looked at the building windows looking down on the street.  He spotted more than one gun barrel sticking out just slightly.  His feet immediately went into motion, pulling him back from the crowd to gain an avenue of travel.  His mind remembered the spot in the photos where things would come to a screeching halt.  He ran hard towards the limo.  When he got close, he jumped onto a blue letter drop-box and launched himself into the air.  Belatedly he realized his dive headlong towards the President would fall a touch short.  His motion, however, inadvertently launched Felix dead center at the head of the President.  Max bounced hard off the side of the limo just as the gun shots went off.

He stood just in time to see Felix trying to use his powerful front paws to get away, despite missing half of his back end.  The President had blood all over him, but was furiously trying to wipe it out of his eyes.

Max’s feet went out from under him with a soapy slide.

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