Her voice echoed down the barrel of the shotgun and got thrown to the treetops when she fired it, hollering. The sky staggered, nearly dropped the moon into the lake outside of town where Lacey kept guard over camping grounds. Nearly dropped it right at her feet. Instead it recovered, kept the moon in orbit, and slid behind the horizon where Lacey’s buckshot couldn’t go.
“Damn.” She spit a baby carrot into a coffee can full of detritus.
Unless she bought the shell a ticket on a one way bullet train to Kyoto, one of the Ocean Treaders with the really nice legs sticking out the bottom. They’d kick you off if you whistled at them beauties, but her shell didn’t have any lips (she’d made sure of that.)
Well shit, she couldn’t just sit there and wait for the money for the train ticket to fall in her lake. She’d have to grow her shell a brother, take it to the bank, kill herself a money man and catch his golden blood in a siphon bag.
She’d have to move quickly or that sky would be back with a new moon and none of her growings would work no way.