“It was a naval kiss but not that kind of kiss. From River — you remember. You almost put it in a blog post back then. Novel 39 I believe. Jack Benny the comedian-violinist would not be proud that you have moved into 40. He wished to remain (in) 39 all of his life!”
Once again Marsha started to ponder All Orange, thinking back to the research she did in her old room over in Meat City on the Omega continent, Mother feeding her free sandwiches and whatnot throughout it all. Probably drugged as well, she concludes as she’s thinking of it, reviewing it. Distracted by the computer, she knew she wouldn’t notice. Mother. *Mother*.
She bounced up out of the lounger. Mother put down her second apple she was working on, having thrown away the core of the first in the beach grass or bushes just over there. 1st green, this one red. She had progressed from better to best by the taste of it. Or worse to worst, depending on which way you’re looking at the situation.
“Stew dogs’ ready!” called Eddie from the red hot grill. “WELLL. I hope you’re still hungry after all that fruit,” spoke pseudo-daughter Marsha down to Wheeler with this. Wheeler, on her part, was going to see eating the latest apple through to the bitter end. She intended to eat the core this time. She was going to finish it all.
But not until after the dogs. Dogg walks up. “Rat you reating Reeler?”
“None of your business mutt,” she dismissed him out of hand.
“Rogg, actually,” spoke Dogg, thinking she just misstated his actual name. Moving on…
Sunklands 