The Picnic

You’re so thin, Mallory! You gotta put some meat on your bones!

I do ‘ave a little on my elbow… sort of…

Why don’t we have a picnic? With a basket and a checkered blanket and little rows of ants!

I like ants. Zey are skinny but strong… unlike me.

Why, this picnic could be a fancy ladies social!

Social? Is anyone else coming, Anastasia? I don’t want to meet new people!

So let’s have a ladies anti-social with just the two of us!

Oh good. Meeting people makes me want to do zee throw up.

You know, make barf.

Here’s your coffee, Angry Chef!

You seen that pie that I just took out of the oven?

Whoops, I forgot to add Irish whiskey! You can’t drink this!

Where the hell did it go? Who would have the balls to steal it?

Gosh, I don’t know! It was here a minute ago!

Maybe you stole it? Eating on the job, eh? C’mere you!

Ugmph! I’m gonna make barf!

Hmm… no pie in here! Where the hell did it go?

Is good picnic. Is good pie.

Pie always tastes better if you steal it.

Did you have picnics like this when you were a kid?

Um… when I was a small, I mostly sat in zee alley waiting for zee day to be over.

You played in a dirty ol’ alley?

Oh yes… I would read. Or do make-believe. Or draw zings in zee alley, like garbage, boxes…

…Or myself tearing my head off and skipping it like a stone in a puddle of oily water.