The Yuge Wall of Jina_It's Bigly by Jaid Black

Author:Jaid Black [Black, Jaid]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B06XR3MM36
Publisher: Valentina Antonia, LLC
Published: 2017-03-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5: She Said

After changing into much cooler if slightly scandalous clothing (which consisted of shorts made from something called terrycloth and skin tight baby doll shirts sans bras) two folding tables were quickly shoved together so all six of us could “get to know” each other. My besties and I were on one side of the makeshift table, seated on some type of metal chairs that couldn’t have been more uncomfortable without involving actual implements of torture. Our captors sat on the other side of the table, each one opposite his “wife”. None of them seemed bothered by the unforgiving metal beneath them.

“Now this here,” Gowdy said slowly as if talking to a group of mouth-droolers, “is called surrrup. Can y’all repeat that word for me? Surrrup.”

My nostrils flared. Hillary’s husband-from-hillbilly-hell was able to induce instantaneous headaches in me. Had his skill been less painful it would have bordered on impressive.

“It comes in a variety of flavors, but this here maple is the patriotic flavor of choice. Now let’s try to say syrup together, y’all. Surrrup. At the count of—”

“We know what syrup is!” I snapped. Sweet Jesus above, that man would likely drive me insane long before my besties and I could escape. I just prayed insanity wouldn’t adversely affect my DNA. “We use syrup on our pancakes too,” I said grandly, straightening in my seat. “But ours is organic. We only ingest natural foods!”

“This here is natural too,” Gowdy said, waving the bottle. “Not every patriot can get his hands on this stuff.” His chest puffed up. “It’s made for the richy people, but with your husband being a master sergeant and me being Trumpgolia’s most fearsome witch-hunter, the richy people donates the finer stuff to our commissary.”

I reached across the table and snatched it from his hands. Frowning severely, I scanned the list of ingredients on the Uncle Jared’s syrup bottle. Getting to know Gowdy was as much fun as—

I hesitated, my entire body going still. Blinking several times in rapid succession, I reread the ingredients. Or, more to the point, the ingredient:

100% pure maple syrup tapped from unpolluted Marla Maples trees in Tiffany Forest. No additives or preservatives. Made for the gentry class. Not for sale to those below a T-5 rank; not permitted for donation to non-military Trumpgolians and/or to military personnel below a T-3 rank.

“It’s pure,” I said, completely stunned. I didn’t know what half the words on the bottle meant, but neither did I particularly care. I looked over to Hillary and then to Warren. I swallowed against the dry knot in my throat. “It’s organic.”

Warren sucked in a breath. That small, telling sound punctured the daze I was engulfed by and forced me back to my senses. I quickly opened the bottle and squirted some into my mouth. As expected, Hillary and Warren lunged at me, both of them as desperate as I was for a taste of nature.

“Back off!” I threatened, standing up and brandishing the bottle like a weapon. “Finders keepers!”

“Bullshit!” Hillary pushed her chair away from the table and stood up.

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