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Surrealist Serpent Science

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           I practiced medicine without a degree, needless to say, I was caught operating on a bum in a crooked alley of a ghost town. The mafia confiscated the organs I had harvested for profit, and sent me on my way as high noon dissipated into midnight. Luckily, they let me keep the sign he scrawled "The End is Nigh" upon. The blood he wrote it with smelled familiar; I couldn't tell if it was mine or his. Either way, I decided to dawn it and slink through the streets in search of change.
           After hours of stagnating on a corner, I knew I had to bait my hook to survive in this wasteland. I began pulling origami rabbits out of a hat I found in a dumpster. The passerby's tossed their coins in, as if it were a wishing well. When its novelty ran dry, I counted my chips and exchanged them for a six-shooter. It was noticeably antiquate; the shopkeeper tried to sell me the idea that it belonged to Billy the Kid at some point the time. I didn't buy it, but polished the gun as if it were a treasure of history nevertheless.
          Firearm concealed, I walked into a busy street, feeling everyone's walls close in around me, suffocating on their exhaust. So many devil spawn commuting towards the pearly gates. Are they dying in vain? I slipped into a cafĂ© to clear my head. "Large coffee, please." I sat down, adjacent to a foggy window. Quiet chatter riddled the atmosphere, "Beyond the Sea" simmered the bass line. The steam was getting to me. I removed my glasses to witness the patrons faces contort and emit those hideous shrills. Someone had spilled their coffee. What bile. I discarded my newspaper, obituaries circled, funnies x'd out, and left.

I couldn't shake the feeling I was being held hostage the entire time.




BFP2 Uploaded 08/22/2013
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