A Midnight Run to the Stuffin’ Shack

Terry reached for the last can of Spam only to have a stray bullet shoot it off the shelf.

“Damn,” he muttered.

Ellie kept pushing the Stuffin’ Shack cart. “Just another night of punkernaut warfare in the post-dystopian neo-anarchy we live in, Dear.”

Copyright © by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.

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