Join us now as we
return to the other side of the fight, would you be so kind? Let’s check out that Walk-In cannibal
Sven, cool?
Sven once awoke in a Heroin Hotel and he had his own kind of fun
there.
From here: http://williesthestories.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-fuckno-wars-tfw-ch-23-sven-awakens.html
He almost wished he could return to that previous night.
But,
You know, my friend, that Sven was always up for a new game.
The sun glared at a low angle though the trees of the manicured
landscape. The dark purple
shirt grew warm on his back in the cold desert air.
He looked ahead to west, at the rear of the mansion before him and
his new protector who sat next to him, and he re-assessed his shituation.
Smoke wicked out of the blown-out windows from the servants’
quarters.
He was the reason for the explosion,
…its furnace,
and
…the fresh dead.
He coughed combusted chemicals from his lungs as he sat by his new
friend on a wide flat rock in a backyard of the Purple Mansion
He recognized the insignia lined in a marble fresco on the wall
before him.
He’d stuffed a cigarette lighter in the pocket of his pants that
would gleam with the same insignia, if he brought it out and showed it to his
new compatriot.
There were two of those lighters he’d pilfered from the bodies of
the young druggies in the Heroin Hotel before he set it ablaze, in the dark
heart of Fuckno…
…the night before this new blaze in the morning.
Sven got it together.
He recognized, indeed.
He had killed some young ones there who lived here.
Yet, nobody here knew that he had done such a thing.
Yet.
He began to appreciate a new understanding, for as you have seen,
he was quite quick on his feet.
It was this: He
had little time, but while that small clock ticked, he had some time.
Time for what?
To kill?
To eat?
Those were his ever present, ever prescient primal urges, and yet,
these things would not serve him well for his presence at this moment.
It took him few seconds to make an executive decision.
He would not give up.
Isn’t that the best thing for one to do?
Never say die. Never
give up. Never throw your
hands up in the air and let go of the steering wheel during a car crash.
Maybe you can steer yourself to less danger: to a tree instead of
a cliff.
Now, we should revisit the older brother who held court in the
upstairs of this huge estate. He
was the one in charge.
That man was heading down the stairs in the other wing of the
burning mansion, surrounded by security.
See you next time.
It will be very soon.
(Sven been knocking at the bedroom window.)
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out
Tempest by Deftones
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