The ginger boy caught the other's eye the

  • The ginger boy caught the other's eye the moment he took a seat behind the faded plastic of the bowling alley's concession stand. He ordered twelve plates of nachos...but no drink.
  • It couldn't be. If the ginger boy was already here that meant the resistance hadn't had time to train the Cyclopagos. But the message was clear. All food, no drink. The albino pres
  • s secretary, a notorious lush, was exasperated by the booze moratorium. She dropped to her knees before the albino Prime Minister, but she was unmoved. "Get a hold of yourself,"
  • The Prime Minister told her. "You act like a schmoo." She asked what a schmoo was. "Never mind. You just need to do your job properly, or you will be terminated", he told her.
  • "I understand, Prime Minister. I will do my utmost," she said as she boarded the hovercraft. She was determined to lookup "schmoo" & what did it mean that she looked like one. Cuba
  • was a bastion of capitalism under the surface, AS USUAL. Tasked by the PM, she reveled in racking up quite the expense account in Cuba, betting on crooked pinball machines and
  • hooking up with Havana gigolos who thought she was heiress to the Whitney fortune. She would have her way with them, then leave them, laughing that throaty laugh of hers. When the
  • shit hit the fan, or was it when the smoke cleared? No matter. She wasn’t heiress to the Whitney fortune; hell, she wasn’t even a Whitney, and her Havana gigolos gave her the clap.
  • She didn't mind though. All the pressure was lifted with a sense of worry that was rising in her head. She chose to push the fear to the side and enjoy not having that strain.
  • But fear pushed aside is not destroyed…just delayed. One day fear pushed back—hard. Then she pushed. Soon fear and her were slap fighting. A crowd gathered. Concessions were sold.


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