Viva La...Oh, Wait

We pulled into an outlying Austin 7-11 in our beat-up ’98 Civic just before sunup. I made sure the M-16A2s were secured.

Jason plopped 7-11 chimichangas between us.

Munching, I reviewed the shortlist of new government options by the dim glow from overhead bulb.

“Clam rule.

Liver-tarianism.

Optometrist rule: ‘Which coup was better? The first or the second?’

Rule by Taco Bell clerks with X200-Pro megaphones free-roaming public roadways asking ‘How are you?’

Rule by sentient chicken Alfredo carbonara.”

“Fuck it. Assimilation ain’t all that bad, I guess. Let’s just go to the mall.”