“Somewhere there was a kid who decided to rip the fruit crate off the two-by-four. Call it a breakthrough of the form. Revolution, little buddy.”
He paused to tilt his bottle, which spilled a dribble down his chin.
“A ha, but not so fast. Could it have been that a kid somewhere fell and broke his scooter? A ha. Now by this model we’ve got something else, don’t we. Less a breakthrough as a devastation, poor kid standing there with his broken toy, left with no other option but to push himself home. Feeling like a fool, trying to push without that crate handle there for a support. Leaning like a fool. Wobbling. Then what? We adapted is what. Look at us now. Goddamned swans on these things. Small little miracle, you ask me. Either damn way.”