Orion is a rising . . .
“Rupert, there’s Orion. I see its belt. Wow. This is amazing. I think I’ll be an astronaut when grow and be the first person to travel around Orion,” says Vinnie lying on his back on the grass in his backyard at three in the morning staring at the constellation.
“I wish Mom or Dad were astronauts then I could go into space with them for the day. That would be even cooler than going to jail with Uncle Mike if Dad can’t get him off.”
Vinnie’s turns Rupert around and speaks in his falsetto voice, “Bro, let’s sing Orion Is Arising. It’s the best night sky song ever.”
“Great idea,” Rupert. “Can I take the lead?” Vinnie asks.
“I need to get my energy level up, Rupert before I sing. I’ll race you around the yard. Ready, set go,” yells Vinnie leaping to his feet and sprinting toward the fenced border. Vinnie has Rupert tucked against his side. Dexter chases Vinnie barking as if he’s on the trail of a fox.
Meanwhile, in the master bedroom . . .
Vinnie’s mom wakes up with a start. She shakes Vinnie’s dad’s shoulder, “Al, Al. I hear Dexter barking. There must a prowler outside the house.”
“Huh? I don’t hear anything? Is it time to get up?”
“Al, Al, Dexter’s outside barking. Go see what he’s barking at,” says Vinnie’s mom.
“It can’t be Dexter. We don’t have a doggie door. It’s got to be the Johnson’s dog.”
“The Johnson’s don’t have a dog, Al. I know Dexter’s bark. That was Dexter.”
The barking stops. “Marti, I don’t hear anything. Please let me sleep. It’s Saturday. Dexter was pretending to be outside. He’s in Vinnie’s room sound asleep on the foot of Vinnie’s bed.”
“Something’s wrong, Al.”
“It’s all quiet, don’t mess with something rare around here,” begs Vinnie’s dad turning on his side, pulling the covers up to his neck and squeezing the pillow over half his head.
“Well, okay. It’s all quiet. I worry too much. I’m sorry for waking you,” says Vinnie’s mom.
Silence filled the next sixty seconds the way fresh hot coffee fills an awaiting cup. All is peaceful and quiet the way every Saturday morning should be.
Then . . .
Out of the backyard, the sound of a young boy belting out a personal rendition of Orion is Arising as if he were a rock star on stage in front of fifty thousand people.
“Orion is arising. You can see Vinnie’s star ablazing/ Way out here in the middle of Mulberry Street / And still what is amazing / Even Mrs. Mavis can’t keep his star from ablazing . . .”
From the Johnson’s backdoor, “Al, it’s three in the morning. Please make your son stop singing.”
From Vinnie’s backyard another verse, “And sleeping outside makes me think / Orion is awasting it’s time on Mr. Johnson . . .”
From the backdoor to Vinnie’s house, “Vincent, in the house, now.”
“Mom, Mom, Mom, Orion is arising. You can see its star ablazing. It’s amazing. Can I stay out here if I’m quiet? Please, Mom. Please, Mom. Please, Mom.”
Vinnie is standing. He’s holding Rupert over his head. He’s using his falsetto voice for Rupert’s voice, “Wake up. Wake up. Orion’s arising. Everybody, there’s a shooting star. Hurry, there will be another one soon.”
Vinnie’s dad has Vinnie over his shoulder. He’s carrying him toward to the deck. “Dad, Dad, Dad, put me down, you’re missing all the fun stuff.”
“For God’s sake, Al, let your son stay outside if it will keep him quiet,” shouts Harry Johnson.
From the Vinnie’s dad’s shoulder, “Don’t worry about Mr. Johnson, Dad, I’m texting Uncle Mike for advice.”
“Vincent,” calls Vinnie’s mom from the deck.
“I apologize. Let the kid sing if he wants to sing,” says Harry Johnson.