ON ENEMY LINES. soapsuds will never quench her taste buds — @lgcxmimi
part of her wonders where the hell was this soap when she was surrounded by nothing but chicken shit. ugh, talk about timing — the stench of the herbal suds were giving her a headache, a migraine, whatever that now seemed to cease the further she got away from the numerous boxes that were currently hoarding the unsold bars.
what was more aggravating than the overwhelming smell was how unfair the sales were. how the fuck were they supposed to even sell soaps? if these village hicks couldn’t sell it, did they think some city dwellers who spent their days dancing hours on end in the basement could?
she frowns, they really must have hit the rock bottom of variety television.
chancing upon one of the younger girls, she reaches out with her own bill to them. not caring if she was aiding the ‘enemy’ — she needed a drink, and at least theirs would give her a temporary quench to whatever ailment she was suffering from.
“can i get one?” her head tilts to the jug at the side.