The Survivor Kind

“Ah, ah, ah. Zipper.”

Robert reluctantly reached up and unzipped his mouth hole. “But my mistress wants me to keep it zipped.”

“She won’t mind, dear. Now, what were you saying?”

“Oh. Pretty lean pickings around here.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m finding that out. I was hoping there would be some MREs left at the old Air Force base.”

“No, those were gone in the first six months,” said Robert.





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