They were just about to board the helicopter when Barren’s phone started buzzing. “It’s Margie!” she said.
“Who?” asked Attila.
“My bestie, Margarine Trailer Greed, I have to take this, boys.” She put the phone on speaker and said, “Hey girlfriend, what’s cooking?”
A voice responded, “Uh, you mean that girlfriend thing in a totally non-sexual way, right?”
“Oh totally,” answered Barren. “We don’t allow no lezbos in my district.”
“I thought as much,” said Margarine. “Whew, I’m beat. I needed to take a break. So what are you up to?”
“Me and the boys are on the trail of some mutant elks and an old fat guy all dressed in red.”
“Hmm, sounds like a commie to me.”
“That’s really a possibility, he was trespassing in our compound. Those commies have no respect for personal property. Want us to swing by and pick you up, you could join in the fun.”
“No, no, I’m up to my ears in work here, I just needed to take a break and fix myself a snack of beer and nacho chips with peanut butter.”
“Ooh, sounds delicious! So what going on with work?”
“Oh, same old, same old—baiting libs on Twitter, spreading rumors on Facebook, all in between biting the heads off baby ducks.” She sighed, “I’m getting absolutely no response from those useless dems though and I still have three dozen ducklings to go. Gotta stay sharp.”
“What a drag, I’m sorry your day is so frustrating.”
“So how are you going after this commie with the elk?”
“We’re using the Blackhawk and the boys have their new 50cal sniper rifles.”
“Wow, that ought to do the trick!”
“Yeah, Donald picked off one of them this morning but he only winged the second one when they took off.”
“Took off?”
“Yeah, these mutant elks can fly!”
“Holy Benghazi, they are mutants!”
“Yeah, they’re heading north by the blood trail, but I’m sure we can catch ‘em with the chopper.”
“Then what?”
“Well, finish off the wounded one, then we’ll see what’s up with the fat little commie. It wouldn’t surprise me if he turns out to be Chinese.”
“Sounds like fun, I wish I could join you. Can you record it on your phone and send me the feed?”
“Consider it done, girlfriend!”
“Um,” Margarine said. “Maybe you could find a different nickname for me. That one makes me feel funny.”
“How about ‘bee-otch’?”
“Nope, too ethnic.”
“Sister?”
“Uh-uh, sounds too labor friendly.”
“Fellow ‘trumpette’?”
“There you go!” Margarine laughed, “Glad we got the sorted out. You guys have fun, OK?”
“Count on it!” Barren punched her phone.
“Mom,” asked Donald, “why does she bite the heads off baby ducks?”
“To keep her incisive, ’no mercy’ wit sharp while she’s constructing her media posts.”
“Oh, makes sense, I guess.”
“You bet it does, Margarine is a heartless beast! Let’s mount up boys, we need to catch those mutants!”
To be continued?