They spent a week here on the moon catching shooting stars. Constant still caught three, but let them all go.
‘Why?’ asked Jericho. “Why are you letting them all go?”
Unfortunately, Constance shook his head.
“Not bright enough,” he said, “I want mine to shine.”
“They shine,” Jetrow said, “they’re shooting stars!”
“Will be more.”
- Jedrico spit from the edge of the moon. “Well, if you don’t need them, give them to me, damn it!”
He sniffed all the time. ‘Are you crazy? They’re mine. ‘
“But that’s why we’re flying to the moon,” Jericho says, on an octave higher than usual, “to catch the shooting stars! And you let them escape! ‘
“It’s easy to say,” Constance said, wiping the dust off his hands. “First, take a few and see if they’re right for you, and then listen to me.” And the shooting star must be caught, no. ‘
At that time, another star fell. Jericho grabbed him, but missed. Jetrow freaked out and almost fell off the edge. Constantly ripped off the master artist who captured this moment like this.
Jericho said, “You better keep it!”
But, of course, Constand turned it in his hands and let him go. He jumped into the Milky Way to make romantic juice on earth, suffocating with surprise and making a mad wish.
Jetrow thundered. “What happened to it?”
Constance shrugged. “I needed color. “I wanted some color. ‘
“I’d save it!”
Jetrow said quietly, “The light was so bright… he didn’t need any more color, Constand.”
They sat in silence, throwing their feet over the edge, waiting for new stars, enjoying the singing of space fairies. When they got too close, Constand tried to drive them away.
The elves got angry and hit him. They gathered behind Constant and started pushing him behind his back. The constant turned and tried to drive them away. They managed to push him away from the edge, and he hung, scratching his fingers.
“Here’s the star,” Jetrow said, jumping in anticipation, with the child’s face in front of the show.
Jericho jumps after him. “You can handle it, mate, he’s your star!”
Jetrow jumped high and confident. He caught a clean, real star. ‘I did it!’ he cries. ‘I did it. I caught a shooting star! ‘
Jericho patted him on the back, both singed like idiots. Good catch, brother! You did it! ‘
Constantly giggling under his untrustworthy grip on the edge of the moon. “A little little, isn’t it?”
Shut up, Constand, Jericho said, he caught the star. And you, sorry for the pun, hold on to the edge of the moon. And it’s not the best place. ‘
“Help me!” shouted Constand, as the space fairies kicked him in the eye.
“I’ll help him,” Jetrow said. “I see another star being filmed, and I bet she’s bound your destiny, Jericho.” He shoved the throbbing star into his pocket and gently pushed the exasperated fairies away. Jericho was going to catch.
Jetrow waved. “Please, Constand,” he said, pulling him to the surface, “stupid.”
The star catcher jumped. The star catcher is caught. The star catcher was looking for destiny.
“I get it!” a heavenly companion named Jericho. “I’m bleeding!”
“Sweetness!” shouted the star catchers, “sweetness in the jug.”
“Oh, oop-do,” Constance whispered, wiping his pants. “Just wait and see what I get.” The other two looked around the Great Broad Galaxy, shuddering slightly.
Jetrow said, “It’s too late, I want to go home.”
“Yes,” Jericho confirmed, “I’m hungry. I want to go home, too. ‘
“Your pair of devil violets,” Constance spits out. ‘I already have one. I’m not going home without him. They stared at him.
“You had four,” Snarled Jetrow, “you’re a stunned pig!”
Jericho pushed the boar in the chest. “And let everyone run away!”
Constanta threw up her finger. ‘The!’ he said. “This is the one I wanted!” ‘
Jericho shook his head. “Oh, Constand, he’s not a star.”
Jetrow began to prepare to dodge. “It’s a bleeding comet!”
A multicolored and fiercely sparkling comet came to the moon. Jericho and Jetrow rushed to the ground. Space fairies have spread. Constant jumped on the tiger of the universe, jubilant with happiness. A comet with a howling and a flash instantly burned the moon’s cheek. Two star catchers looked around stunned in search of a friend. But he wasn’t there.
“Come on, my brother,” Jetrow said calmly. “Time to go home.”
Jericho shook his head. “Bad constant.”
Far, far away, in a secluded place, where only comets pass for a short time, his voice echoed in his head …
Constant turned to Father Mort. ‘Do you see a comet going through here, dead father?’
Father Mort did not answer, and Constanta traced his dark eyes to the ocean beneath them. He saw the bottom of this ocean and looked pretty small and naked.