“Hey, is my underwear done yet?”

“I’m not a maid. I’m doing this on a volunteer basis. Don’t rush me!”

In the barren wasteland with nothing but sand and dune for the eys can see, there was a small tank. It looked old and clunky, almost ready to fall apart. It had rust painted across places where paint used to show their vibrant colors and the nooks and cranny were corroding from the salt and minerals kicked up in the sand.

If you sneeze the wrong way, it will fall apart. Yet, it was able to continue to mozey along across the dune hill. Like a snail, slow and steady.

There was not a single city in miles. There were a couple of oasis, but they were mirages. The sun was bored, it liked to play tricks on those who foolishly wander these passages.

The tank continued on, only to slip and dip down the hill.

“Whoa!? Wh-what the h*ll? I thought you said it was on cruise control?”

“Sorry, I fell asleep at the console.”

“F*CK YOU!”

The little rusted tank continued to slide down the hill. It was as if it turned into a child and wanted to have fun on the slides. It came to a stop, when it hit the bottom. The top of the tank open, a lid half painted half rusted flipping up.

A cute girl popped out in a tube top and a ponytail. She was gasping for air, because the tank’s internal AC was not working today.

“Capricorn! How many times do I have to tell you, always keep your eyes on the rod and a hand on your joystick.”

“Wow. Boss lady, if I was born a boy - I would have ignited my joystick big time.”

“SH-SHUT UP!”

The girl with the ponytail dove back inside, slapping something underneath the tank. After a eerie silence, she surfaced out of the tank to talk to another woman. She wore nothing, sadly, as the insides of the tank were too hot (not an innuendo) and since the two pilots were girls, she thought it was fitting. As if cramped, she took a second to stretch her delicious chocolate tan-skin.

“At least I followed the map.”

“Judging by the landmarks we made earlier, you’re off by miles. Were you really paying attention.”

“Of course.”

“…………………………………”

“What?”

“You ate our daily rations as a snack… didn’t you?”

“… I don’t know what your talking about?”

The girl with the ponytail snarled. She reached up to flick a speck of crumbs on the dark-skin girl’s face.

“Is that my special jam rations on your nose.”

“Boss Lady. I am innocent on all accounts.”

A heavy slap across the back of the skull could be heard in the dune sea.