“General Washington. Mr. Secretary- sir! Hows your troops and territory?
“Richmond seems to have beef. With Concord.”
“Thats my end.”
“No, Seth. Seth! Heroin.”
“I’m from Massachusetts, you will have to give me a minute, thirty seconds.”
“No. I. Love. You.”
“My conduct has been, and remains, above and beyond reproach.”
“Its, a boy, Congressman!”
At a buck-fifteen, outside the saltflats headed for Utahs highest office, the trailer full of balsa and oak dangerously fishtsiled behind them as Stephen Turbo Tuboz irongripped a wheel into obeying, for now.
Glancing fueitively to the passenger side murror, he knew he had no time, virtually. The motion pulling thr collapsable riot baton from his LBV created a wormgear looking effect from outside the two-door vehicle, and unfurling only modestly into Simon’s right side, Turbo built up momentum. Whipping and from countless hours on hikes picking up ruck. And going.