.

I could kick myself for an asshole. Praise the bugouts for civil engineers who
made self-sealing pipes. I eye the water line warily and flip open my comm, dial
into the city, and touch-tone my way through a near-sexy woman reading menus
until I find out that the water, too, self-seals.

Whang, whang, whang, and I'm soaked and blinded by the water that bursts free,
and *I could kick myself for an asshole!*

The house, now truly untethered, catches a gust of wind and lifts itself a few
metres off the ground, body-checking me on my ass. I do a basketball jump and
catch the solvent-melted corner, drag it down to earth, long-arm for the fix
bath and slop it where the corner meets the driveway, bonding it there until
phase four is ready.

#

I bond one end of monofilament to the front right corner of the house, then let
it unwind, covered in eraser-pink safety goop, until I'm standing in my deserted
Chestnut Ave. I spray a dent in the middle of the road with my solvent, plunk
the reel into it, bond it, then rush back to the house and unbond that last one
corner.

I hit the suck button on the reel and the house slowly drags its way to the
street, leaving a gap like a broken tooth in the carefully groomed smile of my
Chestnut Ave.

The wind fluffs at the house, making it settle/unsettle like a nervous hen and
so I give it line by teasing the spit button on the reel until it's a hundred
metres away. Then I reel it in and out, timing it with the gusts until, in a
sudden magnificent second, it catches and sails up-and-up-and-up and I'm a
fricken genius.

#

It's nearly four and my beautiful kite is a dancing bird in the sky before the
good little kiddies of my Chestnut Ave start to trickle home from their days of
denial, playing at normalcy in the face of Judgment.

Linus is the first one home, and he nearly decapitates himself on the taut line
as he cruises past on his bicycle. He slews to a stop and stares unbelieving at
me, at the airborne house, at the gap where he had a neighbour.

"Maxes Fuentes Shumacher! What is this?"

"Flying a kite, Linus. Just flyin' a kite. Nice day for it, yeah?"

"This," he says, then sputters. Linus is a big devotee of Dad's Process for
Lasting Happiness, and I can actually watch him try to come up with some
scripture to cover the situation while he gulps back mouthsful of bile. "This is
an Irresponsible Wrong, Maxes. You are being a Feckless Filthy. This is an abuse
of property,