The Eureka Chronicles 2: Don't trust the British

I wonder if one day I will kill someone. In my dreams, hurt comes to me too easily; I harm without restraint.

It was an arid day in Wyoming, and they were running out of water. There was a fracking ranch downtown that had apparently hit a main water line, causing a town-wide drought for the past two months. Now, when people wanted clean, non fracking oil water, they had to go to the next village over, hidesland. Penny and the rectangular couple were tied to the pipe in the back of my truck, they had stopped complaining when we reached Nevada and I bought them, in their words, campy queen fits.

'How lucky we are to live in such a fantastic time' cried Penny at the sight of her plaid skirt.

As I drove over a speed bump, the trio screamed as if I had just shablamed right in front of their eyes.

'We're still here, reek! You can't forget about us!' The orange girl called out.

'Tell that to Linda!' Mourned the boy with the teeth.

The trio laughed, their giggles bursting with camaraderie -Linda, I later found out, was their legal guardian for the Willam's Walmart trip, and had lost them in the red scarves aisle, she claimed that they ran away, but the trio conserved their doubts about that-.

In the midst of their tomfoolery, the trio had nearly missed my desperate, verbal, yanks at their effeminate selves to look out of the starboard window at the passing ranch, decorated with three letters. The first of the three passed by in an instant, the second of the three reached out and growled at us, and the final of the three seemed to pause as we drove by, it didn't reach out, it didn't run away, it stopped.

P O O

PooPaul's foppish ranch for foppish queens clenched the dry grass in front of an ostentatious field, adorned with his oil machines, pulling back, and swinging forwards, generating a breeze that blew my hair loaf into an open grate. Whilst scrambling across the road, in pursuit of my drifting wig, an eight wheel semi ploughed in front of me, disrupting the ground, and rumbling the grate I had just lost my womanhood in.

'Well that eight wheel semi didn't half come fast' Giggled the petite woman decked in a plaid skirt and dangly crop top not unlike the one that Shakira wore to the 2023 Met Gala.

'Watch out, Pencent, that truck isn't the only thing ploughing tonight' Retorted the boy with anaemic cheeks and jaundiced teeth - footnote: at this the girl with the orange hair shuddered and huffed; we both knew he wasn't fooling anyone with the shammy straight act-- footnote footnote, this was the point in which I coronated the boy with the nickname 'shammy'; it felt positively apt.---

Post this silly little interaction with the hags, I was afforded a startling reaction, courtesy of PooPaul and his Abandoned Ranch; whilst they were fussing about each others questionable sexuality I realised that Poo's lights were off. This, I knew, could mean one of two things: Either she was off, filming another episode of PooPaul's drag race, or she knew I was here.

'Shut down the Fracking!' I screamed.

The fracking continued

After Lots of Shouting me and the girls realised that we just couldn't get through to them.

'Talk about falling on death ears!' Warbled Penny, apparently appropriating the role of misquotess.

'That's not the way the sentence goes my love' Harmonised the rectangular wigs.

My face started boiling, God, I hadn't felt like this since Sassy Velour interrupted my quintessential joke.

'Phrase,'

'Excuse me?'

'Phrase!'

'I have barely an inkling of the subject which you drone on about, why are you concealing this truth from us?' Snapped Shammy.