“I’m *not* going back to Jael.”
“I never said you had to go back to jail, sugar lips,” the more cartoonish Archer uttered. “We’ll stay right here don’t you worry. Wait for the end.”
“The end?”
“That’s right, Ms. Lady Lumps. Where it all gets down and dirty. Dirty bomb dirty.”
“Pete. I mean, Wanda.”
“*You’re* Wanda.”
“Oh right.” She points to herself. “*I’m* Wanda.”
“Yeaahh.”
“Pete, then.”
“Yes, dearest?”
“I –.” She suddenly looks around. “W-where’s Little Oakley…”
“Annie?” Pete offered. “Target practice probably. Since, well, there’s a big target painted on this whole place.”
“Battle of Britain — I know that.” She titters. “Okay, since it’s all going to end here…” She rushes over and takes Pete’s hand and they Skip to My Lou to the blue rug to do the dirty. Explosion before the explosion. Make love not war I suppose is the message of it all. Good work.
Sunklands 