Sling and MoleyJennifer L. Knox
Sling and Moley were at the beach lying on a blanket under a tree. Nice. They buried all their four feet deep in the bluish sand. Cool. “Sling, I’m hungry,” said Moley. “I would be if I were you,” said Sling. “Why don’t you wrangle up grub like a real cowboy?” So Moley walked into the water, stuck his head under and inhaled it all into his lungs. “Jesus Christ” said Sling. Pearls, plastic and cans sat on the sand space where ocean used to be. “I’m still hungry!” cried Moley, so they gathered up some pearls and sold them for big bucks to a hoity-toity lady on the boardwalk: “They match my diamonds divinely!” They used some of the money to buy French fries, and the rest a good house under the same tree they’d started under, then more fries. “You turned out to be a lucky thing,” said Sling. “You never know what’ll happen with people,” said Moley shaking salt from his nose onto the plate.
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