Jinny was a patriot. War killed Jinny. War kills too many Americans. One is too many.
And Albert?
Candy Corker steered northeast toward Topeka in a custom Bohemian-Red Rolls Royce. She adjusted the rear-view mirror and electronically moved her seat forward. Albert’s Blondie III lazed by the back window, perhaps wishing she had more tail to wag, or perhaps she missed Albert. A grimy black duffle bag straddled the back seat and smelled of potatoes.
Another tail lagged not far behind, this one bearing government plates. As Grandpa Llewellyn used to say, “When ya picks up one end of the stick, ya picks up the othern.”
The End