Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Magazine Cover Gives Birth To Death

Your mother first got to bring you to the old Palace of the Outbreak when you were six. What a repulsive age, six. Anyway, immediately upon arrival, she found favor in the men who builded the bridge, which in fact, is a really shitty bridge with a huge gap in the surface on the north end and poor accessibility, but these were generally the type of men with whom she "banged and brewed," as she called it then. Later, in the Palace of the Outbreak's cafe, your brother took after the state of a beautiful round compact pork pie, with a very curious manner inconsistent with his fast-diminishing slice, in which he posed and hid with the prideful and shameless resignation of a flea. Some other stuff happened, and when we walked out, your mother had a fully functional, miniature piano in her hair.

No comments: