See Bardon Roket, his legs dangling over the edge of the Anderson Arms apartment building with the street some six hundred feet below the soles of his shoes. He has made a determination, which he is currently quite proud of having made. His determination is that it is time to put away the childish, simplisticly self-serving pursuits of the child and to occupy himself with pursuits far more fitting of one who has passed beyond that brief, pointless phase.
Yet Bardon Roket is indeed a child. This fact is beyond dispute, as can be clearly ascertained by his soft, boyish features, scraggly blonde hair in desperate need of proper cutting, and diminutive stature. Anyone, upon seeing Bardon, would immediately determine that he is a child, and his birth certificate would certainly bear this out. However, this mere cursory observation, regardless of all objective evidence in support, would provide the viewer with no insight into the mind of Bardon Roket, which is a complex thing indeed. And it is this mind which makes all the difference.
Quite a change from the gloominess of Murder at the End of the World, huh? But that’s okay, sometimes you just want to read something fun.