A Little Less Conversation, A Little Putrefaction, Please
“I still think you should have pushed her in the stove.” Grendel wasn’t over it.
“Well, I’m not here to meet your every expectation,” Hansel grumbled.
“Just the opposite,” Grendel grumbled back.
The monster was still limping very slightly, but he wasn’t singing about Nantucket anymore.
The forest cooled as night approached. Hansel sincerely hoped they’d get to Aunt Linda’s before the season turned to constant rain. Looking through Grendel’s pack for dinner didn’t make him feel any more excited to be on the trail for weeks. There were some new apples Grendel had foraged, but Hansel really wanted pizza or a hamburger, neither of which were squashed in the bottom of the pack.
The fire took the chill out of the night.
Grendel poked his own foot. “My toe seems better, what did she do?”
“She took the bullet out and…
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