“Why don’t you take off your pink clothes and stay a while? Or at least put on a bathing suit like me.” Marsha “Pink” Krakow was talking to an old friend on the dock while staring out at clothes-less Ditsy and Zizzy swimming happily beneath. Aedima Hill was her name, ring leader of at least this chapter of the Brabinites, she said, emphasizing that the term Bravinites was wrong.
“I’m fine,” she replied, smoothing out the wrinkles on her hot pink pants she certainly intended to keep on. Those type of days were behind her, she knew, staring out at rumps in the water. Thanks to the monster Tom Banks. He *saw*.
“He must have changed it,” Aedima Hill said about the name. “He must have gone undercover, incognito. How exciting we’ve found him. At long last! Did you hear that, girls?!” she called down. “We’ve found him!” Squeals of elation from the water; playful splashing. Brabin to Bravin — a simple change but perhaps one he thought would be effective enough. Little did he know fate would bring Marsha “Pink” Krakow to him. And that she would have knowledge of the statue. And these guys — his faithful fan club, persistent down through the years now.
They sat silent for a while, both trying to formulate the next step. The girls in the the water went quiet as well. Everyone was contemplating the impossibility of it all. Especially since Marsha skinnydipped… skinnydipped…
—–
She was back.
“So it *was* you,” she spoke over to the turned crocogator while staring at something else.
Sunklands 