He crushes a roach into the top of the nightstand with the bottom of his bourbon glass.
Tonight, the mayor is upset with power and parties. Tired of upper class alcoholics and white women snorting OxyContin at fundraisers. Of charging his make-up artist's paycheck to an untraceable credit card.
"The bones will splinter after the teeth have eaten away the flesh," he recites to the room after his wife has fallen asleep. How long is evil? How wide?
A charcoal cock shrinking to just the size of the Statue of Liberty now and holding. Any smaller and you have a solution to burglary, better rights for cripples. Mercenaries would get the night off. Hell, give them the year off!, he thinks.
In the yard, the dog lies just outside its house, ribcage balloons with shallow panting. The humidity is a cloud of lard but it's trying to be a nice night.
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1 comment:
I like this.
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