A guide to survive the zombie apocalypse by Joy Felicity Kingsworth:
1. Get yourself a cute best friend who you've known since childhood.
2. Form an emotional attachment to a weapon and food item.
3. Lose your sanity.
4. Join a group whose sole purp...
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Ep. 7 "Down The Mississippi" Ch. 8/8
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Only one phrase echoed in Joy's mind: what is going on?
They started out in a court of defence after being accused of being liars and thieves (which they technically were), then Sketchy had started speaking about being a proud North American (with that particular distinction), somehow it was twisted into the existential question of how and why they were still alive, and then turned into the conspiracy theory of the government still watching them even though they had long fallen. Oh, and somewhere in between, Sketchy had gotten a chalkboard.
Joy felt like she was living a fever dream, or she was severely dehydrated and was having a much more concerning hallucination than the dancing fruits that were making her head hurt the more she tried to make sense of it.
"I could walk you all through it again."
"Please don't." Joy muttered under her breath as she rubbed at the bridge of her nose, hoping to ease her headache from trying to keep up with Sketchy, how Skeezy did it on a daily basis Joy didn't even know.
Perhaps that's why they only shared one brain cell between the two, because the rest of them had rather escape while they could before being drained by the dynamic duo's madness.
"The time discrepancy, the rates of descent, second shooters, detonation patterns, cellular records, communication towers, multi-layered encryption, all of the damn chem trails in the sky. I mean, have you seen that? What is that? That's what I'm asking."
"Well, those are..." Burr stood drunkenly to his feet, but Sketchy waved him back down.
"It doesn't matter! The point is... you're all great people. You," Sketchy pointed at an old man by the front, two clearly blind eyes blinking against the sun. "You're a straight shooter. You go right from the hip. You," Sketchy pointed at a man whose partner, or who Joy hoped was his partner, was cuddling into. "You're honest-to-goodness. You," Sketchy pointed at some random man in the crowd. "You're tried and true. You," Sketchy pointed at a woman with the same scowl Joy had been wearing for the past day in his presence. "Salt of the earth. You," Sketchy pointed at the woman who had previously been drooling all over him before he became a criminal. "Drop-dead gorgeous. What I'm saying here is, people, I wouldn't try to distract you with a bunch of random facts and figures of speech, 'cause you'd smell a fraud from a mile away. And I have too much respect for you,"
Joy knew for a fact that those last words definitely were lies. That's precisely what he had been doing for the past hour or so, it was just spewing random facts with fancy words and draining his way out of his charges.
Was that how trials typically worked? Because if it was the case, Joy was glad she didn't want to become a lawyer.
"Oh, people, people, people. There's nothing to fear but fear itself. And in summation, I'm thinking the words of the great Clarence Thomas. If it don't fit, you must acquit." Joy heard Skeezy sniffle next to her before he broke into loud claps that the onlooking crowd soon joined into.
