“Cry Babies!” I repeated to myself.
“Those children are hurt!
It’s only natural for them to cry!
Those tears are a call for help.
It’s about time Myrna, Walt, and Larry grew up and learned the value of tears.”
Streaming through the cosmos in the Blue Pearl Star Ship™, I was on that street faster than a tear can trace a trail from your eyes to your chin.
“Did I hear the words ‘Sissies’ and ‘Cry Babies’ down here?” I questioned.
Startled at my sudden appearance, a hush fell over everyone.
Only the crying of Cindy and Peter could be heard against the background of the neighborhood noise.
“Come closer.” I motioned.
“I want to talk to those of you who think crying is something to be made fun of.”
