"Get back up there, Myrracle!" Mr. De La Crème screamed, shoving a shoe back onto Myrracle's bare foot. He pushed her up on the hood.
Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen . . .
The tear in the fabric grew wider, until a human-sized hole appeared. And then a nearly naked woman emerged from the center of the tear and rose into the sky. She had long limbs and golden skin and wore shiny necklaces strategically placed over her chest and lower half. A gem-encrusted veil covered her face.
The Scout's hair blew in its own wind. Her arms stretched wide. Her fingers gripped the very ends of the piece of fabric that had materialized on the roof of the car. It seemed as though the fabric had grown from her fingers, an extension of her body itself.
"Wow," Myrracle whispered. Tookie couldn't agree more.
Fireworks began to explode in the air, the sparkles showing the numbers as they counted down. Six, five, four . . .
The Scout looked at the De La Crèmes and nodded majestically, looking both strong and feminine at the same time. "Please take her!" Mrs. De La Crème gushed.
"We would be honored!" Mr. De La Crème cried.
Three, two . . .
And then the Scout reached out her long, slender, radiantly decorated hand and beckoned.
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