Rise of the Raccoon Queen, Part 36
I had synchronized the camouflage on our Corps uniforms, and to the uninitiated eye we were wearing identical black suits with white shirts, narrow black ties, and natty black fedoras.
I glanced over at Missy, who took up the reigns. My wolfess chum said, “It’s three leagues to the festival, we’ve fed the ants, got a half pack of beef jerky, it’s dark out, and – “
“We’re wearing sunglasses,” I said. I pointed. “Hit it.”
Missy snapped the ant-goad, and the two ants gronked.
We eased out of the stable into the dark streets of Eastness.
I glanced over at Missy, who took up the reigns. My wolfess chum said, “It’s three leagues to the festival, we’ve fed the ants, got a half pack of beef jerky, it’s dark out, and – “
“We’re wearing sunglasses,” I said. I pointed. “Hit it.”
Missy snapped the ant-goad, and the two ants gronked.
We eased out of the stable into the dark streets of Eastness.
Story by Walt46 and M. Mitchell Marmel. All rights lefted.
4 years ago
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