Lucid Reality, page 14
“To Bubby, the Mechoid fishing champeen of the Dream. Who’da thunk?”
Billy Joe gave a goofy auto-tuned musical laugh.
Down the beach came a hovercar. It was an exotic touristy sort of thing with open sides and a fabric canopy that fluttered with a fringe.
“Oops. Looks like playtime’s over,” he said, giving a head jut up the dunes toward the Baron’s compound. One of the Baroness’s personal guard had been sent to collect them.
With a groan, Winston slung his feet off the lounge chair and readied to stand.
“I’m not looking forward to this either, Hoss, but what else can we do?” Billy Joe said. Winston’s own sadness echoed in his partner’s voice.
“Like watching your favorite horse be put down in her prime,” Winston agreed. With a few big swallows, he finished off his drink, put it on the small table, and stood up.
“Mechsters Winston and Billy Joe?” the driver addressed the pair as they walked to the hovercar.
“Yah, yah. Keep yer pants on,” Winston said, putting on his straw panama hat and sandals that completed his beach bum appearance. The two climbed aboard and were off. The hovercar glided over the dunes and deeper into the island compound grounds.
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Thanks & Acknowledgments
I would like to acknowledge the contributions of the following people:
Editor
Jane Lambert
Alpha Readers
Ben & Shannon Stepanek
Special ‘thank yous’ to:
Bridget Boncher
Wordmenders Critique Group: Stephanie Dooley, K.T. Sweet, Nathan Veyon, Jenn Lees, & Phillip Wilder.
Thank you all!
M. D. Boncher, Lucid Reality
