Fourth (Also known as: The correct spelling in this case.)
Vulvacia had spent the time you were reading the previous chapter cleaning up vomit. It was not something she wanted to do, but Hoboken had strict littering laws and if the vomit was traced back to her, even her, other would be harsh, harsh penalties. Boston could not suffer the pain that it would surely cause. Remember, this is the future. Vomit tracing technologies have come a long way in the past years. More so than the actual preventing of vomiting. Vulvacia took out her ultra-paper and super-pen and made a curt note in her firm handwriting. “Rid the world of unpleasant vomiting.”
She turned away from her super technologies and stared at the sky. The way she vomited made it clear that she was in New Jersey. The way it nearly blended into the earth made her positive that it was Hoboken. If she was being sent here, that meant Justice was needed even more than she could have imagined. She began to scratch the back of her right hand. Ever since Perpendicular was changed from being a feeling into a mathematical term, she had that itch. But getting Perpendicular as a feeling again was not something she could handle at the moment. (Again, the super-pen and ultra-paper were put to use. This has to be explained since it is not a movie.) The world wasn’t ready anyway. And Vulvacia needed to be on guard.
Hoboken was a dangerous place to be, guardian of Happiness and Justice or not. Ever since The Great Hog Incident of 2022, most human beings were not allowed outside without at least half an ounce of salt on their bodies. The amount of pigs which had found their way into Hoboken meant anyone would have to be ready to salt one down on notice. The government was harsh. Illogical and harsh. Looking to her left, Vulvacia noticed a rogue salt-dealer. Fingering for her salt pouch, she noticed it was no longer on her right hip.
The salt-dealer licked her sticky lips. Vulvacia twisted her gauntlet. It was, in the parlance of the Olden Years, on.