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Thursday, July 4, 2013


Bring Me The Head Of a Hipster  by The Computers  

Sven stood there before a young woman who was not afraid of his appearance.  He was completely bathed in the blood of a dying man lying on the bathroom floor.

He cocked his head to the side and said, “You have offered your name as Sherry.  That is a lovely aperitif.  In proper reciprocation, I will tell you my name. You may call me Prince Richard.”

Sherry shook her head.  She said,  "I know who you are supposed to be.  But who are you, really?”

My friend, you understand that Sven had never had a friend before.

Such is the life of a lonely cannibal.

And he was not about to let his guard down.

You also may remember that there were two young ladies who would join up, and in doing so, help others to take him down. 

In the Heroin Hotel, Sven had killed a young lady and her friends with morphine overdoses while they were passed out.  She had awakened just before her death convulsions just when her friends died.  They were all in a circle, around a small, low table.

They died, and Sven set their bodies on fire.

He had cut off the young lady's leg and used it as a torch to see down the stairs of the decrepit hotel, with Lenny Sustenuto following him.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?

Sven considered things. 

As you know, he could do tall math in short time.

He understood that she was much like he was now:  Walked-In to a new body.

What he didn’t know was that he had infected the original Walkin, and in doing so, unleashed an army of such folks in the bowels of Fuckno.

Even deeper: Lenny Sustenuto had opened the Gates of Hell down there. We will get back to that in a bit.

So he appraised his shitiation and considered that he had not much to lose by making an acquaintance in this moment.  She might make a tasty meal, but he already had that beside him on the floor. 

However, she seemed to be a bit familiar with the mansion compound in which he found himself now.

She might be quite helpful.

If he tested her, and she followed suit, there was a good chance that he might be able to have some fun in the mansion.

These two were in a bathroom after all.  There was a shower handy for cleaning off after she dined with him.

Would she eat with him?

If she did, then she would prove herself.

But he would never allow her to have on of the knives: the Carver, or especially, the Butcher.

He grinned.

He wiped the blood off of his face as best he could and then stuck out his hand.  He said, “I am Sven.  Well met.”

Sherry walked through the pool of dark red blood and shook his hand.  She had the proper handshake: full and firm, not the finger clasp, nor the damp dead fish.

He nodded, and she looked him straight up into the eyes.

She had passed the first test.  Sven felt wonderful shivers up his injured spine.  A new friend?

He pointed down at the man beside him.  He said, “You appear to know this man.  Should we call for some doctors?”

Sherry nodded, “Delivery is very handy.  Doctors would taste very good I suppose.  But first, may I have an appetizer?”

Sven couldn’t help but laugh.  This was indeed a lovely tart.  And she was hungry like he was.

Runnin’   by Sinkane  

The man lying on the floor heard all of this, but in his state of release, which is far from shock and entering into the stages of dying, he was oblivious.  His eyes were gone, as well as his cheeks, nose, and top lip.  In such a state, he felt no pain, for the human brain sets the nerves into autopilot. 

The Fight or Flight response is no longer needed, you see. Instead, it is like the final stage of grief, which is Acceptance.  There is only one thing for the body left to do, and that is to shut everything down.

This starts with the adrenal glands, and the digestion system, and also the extremity circulation, especially when there is serious blood loss.  The human brain will save the last bit of blood for itself.  No one knows why, but it is, indeed, a self-preservation quality of our brain that is both remarkable, and also not fully understood.

So he lied there, awaiting his demise, and then he felt the tug and pull of folks tearing flesh from his body.

He heard the sounds make when someone is eating without  proper manners, or using a napkin.

He dissipated.

He found himself in a dark room, and looked down at a faint glow.

He saw two figures hunched over a body, and they were puling him about in a pool of dark liquid.  One figure used a carver blade, and the other used her teeth and hands.

In a bit, the view from above faded, and he could see nothing at all.

This man was left in a sea of pitch black eternity, with no stars to guide him along the sea of tranquility.

Desolate, unforgiving blackness welcomed him.  He could feel its weight.  He was lost in the emptiness of the Walkin, those eternal beings of which not much is known.

He ran and looked for something, anything:  a wall, a fall, a door, a hall.

In the distance, he saw a circle of bright lights, and they called to him.

Off he went.

As he approached, a faint haze of purple covered them.

He entered the cloud of haze and bent to peer at one of the sparks.

It was a portal, as were each of these small, shiny gems.

He saw a face inside.

Upon closer inspection, he saw that this gem was a tiny window.  Inside it he could see the visages of other folks, arranged in a circle. 

He went to the next one, and peered inside.  There he saw a the same circle of people, except that it was from a different perspective.

This was a tiara of tiny gems.  They were windows that offered a view of the others of them.

He saw an old man wearing a crown who sat at the table, three away to the right.

He went to that spark and held it up.

And then he felt its light enter his body, covering it, and he awoke.

The purple fog dissipated, and he found himself in awareness again. 

He was back.

Except, everyone around him was looking at him like they had been expecting him.

He sat in his new body in a soft chair in front of a round table, and then he heard a voice from inside his mind shout out:  “He is here!  I will ask him to speak now!”


The Chauffeur did not know that he had walked in to a new body, or even what a thing meant.  He did not know that he was vulnerable now, since this was some sort of séance.

What the hell was going on?

He knew that he was in danger.


He was quite hungry.

God Help You.

God Help Us All.

---willies out.


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