8

Marmalade is just jelly with chunks. Not even good chunks at that, sort of bitter and strange like they don’t belong. It’s a Grandma Conspiracy. It’s a global blue haired cover-up to make everybody nostalgic for The Great Depression. A time, that pretty much everyone agrees sucked and anything they ate or drank during that time sucked. Yet, somehow the octogenarians can wax nostalgic about condensed milk and canned beans, dust bowls and unemployment.
Marmalade just plain sucks.
Sapphire spread the lie with a white plastic knife across her toast.
“How much longer till we get there?”
“About three and a half hours.”
The sleepy bags of skin pulled on Johnny’s bloodshot eyes and dragged them down as if they were sad. He sort of grinned as he yawned and flashed the tooth. All that deformed vulgarity showcased between tired lips grabbed hold of Sapphire. She wondered if Massachusetts had a law against road side sex. Maybe it was against full penetration, but maybe she could get away with a lean over blow job? Maybe she could…
“I gotta take a shit. I’ll be right back.” Johnny said, snapping her back from her fantasy. Nothing like a guy opening his mouth and fucking up all the good stuff you were thinking about them. If they only knew how easy it could be if they just tried a little.
Sapphire watched Johnny as he slid out of the booth. She poked her lie covered toast with a fork in contempt.
She was tired.
Everything put her flight response on full alert, but she had more than enough left in her tank to make it. She couldn’t wait to get to Torbins Shore. Torbin’s Shore was where she knew she had to be .When she got there she could paddle out and hug all the puffins on Easter Egg Rock, congratulating them on their comeback attempt and stop anyone from hurting them ever again.
She wouldn’t mention that it was futile because Wal-Mart and all those other huge heartless corporations had no use for them and if Wal-Mart had no use for you, you had no chance of being protected by the Senate. Wal-Mart and Big Oil had just about every Senator and Congressman tied up with a giant string of dollar bills. When ever all those big companies pulled on that string of dollar bills, all those fine politicians redefined their campaign lies and screwed everyone that didn’t have a hand in their pocket. What ever it was that Big Business wanted, it would make enough campaign donations to make sure our elected officials could convince the general public that it was exactly what they needed all along.
That didn’t matter.
America deserved the scum it elected. Sapphire no longer believes that her vote mattered. The Government was just a machine that chugged along, driven by corporate greed. The single crusaders of hope, voted in by small communities scattered about the country, all flashed brightly then vanished like moths hitting the zapper. Change was just the other side of the same as far as politicians were concerned.
Puffins didn’t know about politics. That was most definitely for the best. But politics had its sights on the puffin and Sapphire knew she had to help them. She didn’t know what she would do, but she knew she had to do something.
Maybe, she would just hug them all.
Then she thought, “Do puffins like to be hugged?