“We were actually waiting on you to get home, Cousin Harry, because we wanted to know if the U.S. has a space navy, and if we don't have one, who do we need to talk to?”
Eight-year-old Edwina and nine-year-old George Ludlow were just grinning up into the fatherly dismay and compassion of their big cousin Col. H.F. Lee, and next door, the Trents and Stepforths were getting ready.
“Hey, Vanna – bring out the popcorn!”
“I'm way ahead of all y'all,” almost-18-year-old Vanna Trent said as she brought a huge bowl and a bunch of little bowls out to the porch for her Stepforth grandparents and siblings to enjoy the popcorn she popped and seasoned daily.
“I'm really just here for the popcorn, because I already know George and Edwina ain't getting nothing they want,” eleven-year-old Velma Trent said.
“Ain't it the truth,” eight-year-old Gracie Trent said. “It's just enjoying their journey.”
“Why are you so grown all the time?” 21-year-old Melvin said.
“Why are you so not?” Gracie instantly reported.
“Remember,” Mr. Thomas Stepforth said gently, “the popcorn is for us to enjoy the show over there, not put it on over here.”
“Right,” the eldest and youngest Trent siblings said, and sat down with their popcorn.
“I was kinda hoping they would cancel each other out so we can get more,” nine-year-old Milton Trent whispered to his nine-year-old first cousin, Vertran Stepforth.
“I'm kinda hoping you stop saying stuff like that because remember, I'm going home with Pop-Pop, you live here, and Gracie and Melvin will stop fussing at each other and both come after you if they hear that,” Vertran said. “You got to let your brain move before your mouth does, cuz, I'm telling you.”
Meanwhile, Col. Lee on the Ludlow porch thought of what he should say to his little cousins.
“I am in the Army, so of course they don't tell me these things. I can tell you that when I was a child, then-President Ronald Reagan was talking about a space race, and now-President Trump has discussed a Space Force, so, there may be something in the works.”
“OK, so, where do we donate, because we've got all kinds of plans!” George said.
“That's not quite how military procurement works,” the colonel said, “but don't worry: whatever they come up with, you'll be paying for it when you start paying taxes.”
“Now, wait a minute!” George said. “I don't have a problem with donating, but I'm not trying to have someone tell me how much I have to pay in taxes! Our ancestor “Light-Horse” Harry Lee would have had something to do about that!”
“We were reading over Eleanor's shoulder about the Revolutionary War, and George picked up that they can't tax us unless we have someone in the House of Burgers to represent us –.”
“Burgesses,” the colonel gently collected as the adults on the Trent porch fell out.
“Yeah, but, I want fries with mine, so have them send the burgers over, too,” Edwina said.
“So, what you're saying is, the more military we have, the more taxes we gotta pay?” George said.
“Yep,” Col. Lee said. “A space navy is going to be really expensive, so the tax age might have to come down to around nine years old while it's twice that much now.”
George and Edwina worked with their fingers, and then started shaking their heads.
“Uh uh,” Edwina said. “Never mind. We were thinking that when we start our law firm, we could just beam up the stuff we need on subpoenas and just beam the criminals directly to prison, and that would save a lot of time, but no.”
“What are these politicians thinking, just getting ready to raise our taxes like that!” George said.
“Well, they don't know about your idea, so if we get real quiet and treat it like it's top secret, maybe both of you won't be paying taxes next year,” Col. Lee said
“Yeah, let's do that, because the only things these people are going to beam up is our money!” George said.
“Yeah, no, because I need my money to look cute – and I don't even have a job or a business yet!” Edwina said. “Forget a space navy! I need to get my Insta-Resorts going, and I need new spring outfits.”
“Y'all's secret is safe with me,” Col. Lee said.
The colonel put his finger to his lips, and his little cousins did the same as they followed him into the house.
“Yeah, we didn't need to mess that up – more popcorn, Gracie?” Melvin said.
“I don't know how we get a 'we' when I'm minding my business and you start stuff,” Gracie said, “but slide me some extra Parmesan and I'll let it slide.”