Sudetenland Tales by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Sudetenland Tales
Page 134
“Wise ass.”
“Look. We’ve already seen the early warning signs.”
Seemingly shocked, Grabbin said; “So, are you saying that I’m supposed to close the port and allow the residents to leave?”
“Of course not. I’m just forcing you to practice your bullshit. It strikes me as funny.”
“A girl after my own heart after all.”
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The large screen, hi-definition TV decided to do an “impromptu” performance and came on like a barnacled and harpooned , huge White whale of yore. It must have been some sort of unproven, 21st century coincidence that simultaneously all other electric devices ceased to function, leaving Sarah with an inadequately heated dish of Health. Choice’s Mexican Style Street Corn. Luckily, she had the insistent TV.
It was Grabbin Nuisanstein’s head or a reasonable facsimile thereof, and it had a warning for the residents of Whitewater, which it was ostensibly distributing for their own good.