Everyone mocked Ellen and her obsession with survival skills. Oh, not the skills that would land someone on the news as a nutter who had their small children out in the woods watching the skies for aliens. She was skilled in the essential of skills: skinning, cooking, and body disposal.
Greg chuckled nervously. He had prepared for this; he had–for all of about five minutes in the men’s room while waiting for his name to be called. His mouth was drier than the Sahara in July. The silence in the room was deafening. “Well,” he said finally, “am I in the will?”
I am not happy with how it’s starting out and have scrapped the first section that I had posted. Once I work out a few kinks, I will post the revised chapters and continue with the story. Hopefully sooner than later.
Was that the can I heard? Is that fish I smell? Or are we having chicken tonight? I do hope it’s chicken; that’s my favorite. First one here, my luck. Yes, I want some. Don’t you hear me ask? Please don’t make me beg or demand. That is so beneath me. Oh, fine, you have left me no choice. Begging is my expertise. What is that you dropped? Please let me smell. Oh, that smells good, I think I’ll have some of that. What did you put in there? Is it the same? Move please, and let me see. Yes, that smells the same. But let me check. I think they’re the same. Oh you dropped something again? Move out of the way, let me see. Same as before, I am sure. I think I would prefer the first one today. Hey, that was mine. Okay, I understand. The second one is for me. When did you get here, sister? Third is fine. Oh dear, brother, you’re here as well. Wait, there is none for me.