“Nice of the Princess to invite us to a picnic,” X asked, “eh, Luigi?”
“I hope she makes lotsa spaghetti!” he piped up. I was seated next to him in the back. I always hated this seat, because I was always subject to Marcus’ assaults. He knew better than to piss X off while he was driving. I think the object lesson from the last time that happened is still in a Hoveround somewhere in Central America, blowing through the settlement like that kid from 6B and his garden-variety meth.
Marcus turned around and blew a raspberry. Luigi responded by picking up his vuvuzela and blowing it. Only it was too long to point at Marcus, so I got an earful instead. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat…
I tried not to mind it, though. I didn’t need the hearing in my right ear to appreciate Allison. She was a bit younger than I was, and she was also Princess’ daughter. I could tell she liked me back, too—she had always been into the bad boys. Of course, her grandmother was another story. I hoped the old bat wouldn’t be there.
She was.
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