Pumucle

What the Country Squire lacked in svelteness it made up for in sheer reliability, just enough that in their trek through the flyover states, the Captain could very nearly delude herself into thinking she was not living in this new universe with grey, empty highways, empty except for the occasional fatal accidents in plain view – no, instead she was a long-suffering family man escorting his family to – to fucking Yellowstone, to see a geyser, to feed some bears, what did families do when they had money? She thought of baseball games and camping by actual recreational choice, and not just because Millie from sani-hookup #3 heard the

Captain Carla Meredith Laslow had long gotten used to reaching E’s apartment by back alley. And with her police department gutted, the armory shanked, and faithful Pumpkin locked in her old (because it would soon be old) apartment, Laslow wondered if E had somehow, in their yearlong and reluctant collaboration, known this was going to happen and was waiting to gloat, or unveil a nefarious plan. Or she was already dead. Laslow stopped where she was, which was right next to a flaming dumpster, took out her cigarettes and lit the fuck up. She’d been lighting the fuck up a lot more often than usual. From the streets issued the jolt o

Jayne's new image of Hanna was one of harsh overhead light and funny faces.  Diner lighting and streetlamps weren't often flattering, and the punk just couldn't convey the right facial expression with his mouth full. The food rotation this week was Joanne's, something Jayne was willing to accept as a boon, being one of the cleaner lunch carts in Hanna's probably-okay-to-be-seen-with-the-MAN parameters. Honestly, he would have taken sitting down as a boon, that week.  And Hanna seemed quite keen to remind him. "Someone forgot their face mask last night." "Forgetting is the problem." "Ooooh-kay? Be fuckin' mysterious."  Hanna clattered int