“Probably. Too bad Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory isn’t real, huh? Or maybe it is and people are holding out on us.” Under government control, most likely. If that particular chocolate factory was a real place. “Now I’m picturing good ol’ Wonka with a Molotov in one hand and a shotgun in the other, defending his precious factory from the hordes.”
As a teenager in the government safehouses, people often thought that, just because she and her siblings were adopted, it meant that they didn’t get enough love and acceptance from their parents, which in turn made them easy. Of the six Johnson kids, Sasha had been the worst, but none of them had been completely slutty. It was part of the reason Maddie hated Sing Sing’s resident stripper so much.
Maddie herself was not of a promiscuous nature, no matter how risqué some of her remarks were, so when she caught Sandwich Guy staring at her chest, she pursed her lips and arched an eyebrow. So he was one of those types, was he? It figured. A small part of her was amused, though. Unlike some women who probably would’ve tried to ignore the staring, Maddie was the type to call people out. “So are you, like, a teenage boy in a grown man’s body? Never seen boobs before? ‘Cause if you are, that’s kind of sad.” Her mouth twisted in faux-sympathy.
Nodding her agreement to his opinion of soup, Maddie added, “Must be why they call you Sandwich Guy. If a guy ever comes along and he’s a fan of soup, we can call him Soup Guy, and you guys can be bitter rivals.”
“Not only that, but we’d run the risk of offending our dear cafeteria ladies, and we wouldn’t want that, now, would we?” Her tone clearly conveyed that she didn’t care one lick if she offended the head cook at all. In fact, Maddie cherished those moments when she got to verbally beat down Little Miss Stripper. “Guess I could always try putting in a request for pizza here, but I doubt anyone would listen to little old me.”