Stan, Arnie, Elizabeth, and Heiferwaith’s legs became jelly-like as they slid on their knees down a muddy hill away from the trenches and into a lake consisting entirely of smoke. They fell hard on wooden planks beneath the smoke. It smelled of grilled salmon. The planks creaked, threatening to crack as easily as thin ice.
“At the same time, even voting could be a true rebellion in a radical sense. Onward to the voting poles, comrades and friends!” Arnie marched forward. The wood broke beneath him. An outline of his body and clown afro remained.
Stan, Elizabeth, and Heiferwaith fell to their chests, carefully crawling for hard ground.
Arnie’s orange afro bobbed in his outline, covered in a slimy purple fluid. “Wow. You guys have to come in here. THE BLOOD LUST WATERS FEEL DIVINE!”
“But what about ending this godforsaken World War 4? If there’s one thing I learned from World War 3, it’s that our votes DO MATTER.” Heiferwaith scrabbled up the muddy bank like a slick manatee. “We have to vote. We have to get out there and—“He pointed a manicured finger in what he thought was the right direction, yet the smoke had grown too thick to be sure. “Or maybe it was over there?”
A cricket chirped from the back of Elizabeth Dracula’s head. It hobbled onto her forehead, pounding its cherry red cane painfully as it went.
Elizabeth crawled back onto the wooden planks and opened a hatch. She grabbed Stan’s hand and pulled him down a dusty stairway. Their glass baby opened its mouth at the bottom of the stairs. “Let’s go back to my condo.”
Cheryl waited for Stan on the other side of their glass baby’s mouth.