“Thank gods you have arrived. Now I can be free to exact my revenge.”
“Revenge?” spoke Marsha “Pink” Krakow, unsure what part of the prison they’re in but knowing it was a crucial place, a decision point. She was not ready to let the doll in front of her go. She has the key.
“Yes. The people that put me here. The Durexians. They came to Mountain Lake where me and my doll mates often bathe our parts. They took us. Here. Prisoners of war. Exchanged for information. First Dolly — obviously — with a name like that it would seem she’d have the most knowledge. But stupid as a porcelain dish she was. So, frustrated, they took Dimmy, thinking it was an ironic name too and maybe *he’d* have valuable information to give them. But: the same. Dimmy was not an ironic name.”
Marsha tried to speed up the conversation. *She* needed information. And here was one willing to talk, sing even, perhaps. Sing sing.
“What about the canary?” she decided to phrase it.
“Oh it died in the mine,” Billie almost responded, humor chip activated just by someone showing up. She was always pondering a joke when others were around. “Oh it died,” she actually said, stating the stark truth and that alone. She took off her hair to show what happened.
(to be continued)
Sunklands 