Right now, America looks like a fatheaded, shortsighted, gas-guzzling arrogant blowhard to the rest of the world.
Right now, America looks like a fatheaded, shortsighted, gas-guzzling arrogant blowhard to the rest of the world.
Every other person in the world would have looked at it and thought, Max would hate this. It was girly. It was beautiful. It wasn't made of titanium and black leather with spikes on it. But it seemed exactly right, in a weird, heart-fluttery kind of way. And I really loved it.
In the dictionary, next to the word stress, there is a picture of a midsize mutant stuck inside a dog crate, wondering if her destiny is to be killed or to save the world. Okay, not really. But there should be.
Fang felt a cold jolt, then dismissed it. Max wasnÆt dead. He would know, somehow. He would have felt it. The world still felt the same to him; therefore, Max was still in it.
Let's just say that if these scientist had been using their brilliance for good instead of evil, cars would run off water vapor and leave fresh compost behind them; no one would be hungry; no one would be ill; all buildings would be earthquake-, bomb-, and flood-proof; and the world's entire economy would have collapsed and been replaced by one based on the value of chocolate.
I hoped I wasn't actually dead. That would make finding our parents and saving the world really hard.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories