PHOTO PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast
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“We wouldn’t have this infestation if we didn’t make so many parks,” groused Mickey impatiently.
“What, Grandpa?” Fifteen-year-old Lydia stared out the passenger window.
“I said these damn geese are just like people. They’re always in the way, shit all over everything, and if one walks into traffic, all the rest follow.”
“Is it the Olympics or the elections?”
“Both,” he complained. “Everything.”
“You just don’t like change,” she countered with a sly smile.
“I don’t like stupidity and that’s what this is, all of it.”
“They’re almost across the street. “
“Ever taste goose pate?” Mick floored the accelerator.
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