Girl of his dreams: blown to smithereens by the Triggerfish atomics, making them so so happy if no one else. And he’d only been gone three minutes days! He never bought her that beautiful red rose — flower stand also vaporized in the bombing. He never told her he loved her, or at least liked her a whole whole lot. She never got to travel with him to the Wild West of Nautilus, where the best fishing is, where he constantly visits and leaves her with other companions, the butchers, bakers and candlestick makers of the world, opportunists all. The void will likely never be filled, he feels. Not fills.
Still twirling, Bob Jr. Jr. thinks from his snapping position again, but it’s just a helicopter now and not Shelley, part of the town’s recovery efforts. We were saved by the graces of the Gods! Wonder where the whirling girl of his dreams went after she left me that awful awful morning after that wonderful wonderful night? Must keep in contact with her. Despite the trauma.
“Will you look at him over there, still snapping away like nothing had happened, like the town was the same as before, all picturesque and stuff.”
“Hey, how did *we* escape the blast?” But then Al remembered going back to Luther’s place that night which was just out of the fallout range. Like Bob Jr. Jr. and Shelley, they were saved by love or at least a whole whole lot of like.
“Another 3 eyed one,” states Luther, reeling in his bite.
“Get use to it,” responds Al.
Sunklands 