he was doubly hangry. Yeah, what th' was she good for? He muttered, there wasn't even enough in her wallet for a cheese muffin. Looking for a job, of course, didn't register. Dude had expected him to be there at sunrise, and the joker before expected the too many deliveries to be...knocking at someone's kitchen door? Uh-uh, punk shook his head, muttered an oath...something about moloch's tits.
What punk needed to find, was a sugar daddy, but first, he needed to find some lunch. As he approached a park - one of Lot's ideas, punk rolled his eyes, but then, eureka! Adding two and two, it occurred to him, why the park was populated with single moms, and their kids; with wally world closed, the women were out of work. Bits of a conversation confirmed that reality; a mom, with three children in tow, was saying something to another mom about applying for WIC - one of Lot's projects - if something didn't turn up soon. Hmmph, what would turn up, punk cussed again - something about astart's pecker - would be more single moms on the dole, and having more kids.
"Sweetie," a plump 30ish woman approached the jungle gym, where her fiveish son was about to grab the lowest rung, and begin his climb. "You can play mountain king, after we eat."
"But I wanna..." the boy began to pout, as he watched his friend timmy ascend the bars.
"You wanna grow up big and strong? Right?" The woman gently reminded. The boy nodded, his arms began flailing as he and began telling his mom how BatMan caught the jewelry thief.
It was that second, when punk noticed a MickyD bag sitting on a nearby picnic table. Smelled good. Now was his chance, since the woman had her back turned. Just when he was but a yard from it, she turned around. Punk took a step in another direction. Uh-uh, he wasn't going to mess with switchblade shirl - that beech was crazy!
A few moments later, bag in hand, punk rounded a corner building, and peeked inside the bag. His countenance fell. Freaking chicken nuggets, and a stupid salad. He pitched the salad, the bowl landing upside down, leaving a lettuicy trail, and began gnawing on the eight or ten mostly breaded nuggets. There was something else in the bag, a small container of what looked like apple sauce. Punk ripped that open, and in one gulp, swallowed the kiddo-portioned contents. Several yards behind him, a mid-20s blond quietly sobbed - she and her little girl would have no lunch today. As for supper, well, that wasn't looking too promising either.
"And delivered just Lot, vexed with the filthy conversation of the wicked : (For that righteous man dwelling among them, in seeing and hearing, vexed his righteous soul from day to day with their unlawful deeds ;)" II Peter 3:7-8
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