You can allow yourself certain grievances and sort of step aside from it all when nobodys looking, and just leave things right in the middle of the road. And whatever speeding young man chooses to fly past it, does. And whatever unconditionally reckless young lady might steer headlong straight into it, does. What gets left there is a pile-up that takesbasicallya team of firefighters to pry open for what remains of our dear friend(s).
I got a call from Travis Cambridge a few minutes ago while typing this. Apparently hes leaving New York City for Seattle, to spend a month documenting the growth of a cloned alligator.
Asking him what the devil they might be up to with cloning alligators in Washington, Travis said, and I quote: Do you think the Murder City Devils will ever get back together, by the way?
How the fuck Travis gets well-paid month-long reporting projects and seems never to truly find himself reasonably relating to anything even for just a few seconds, I guess well all never know. Shortly after he told me about the laboratory in Seattle and how there was a dreadful fire there which ravaged the fucking place last year, he excused himself to answer a fax, at which point he started giggling practically like a child, and came running back to the telephone where I was waiting, blammering on about how one of the scientists in charge of monitoring the heart progress of the clone reptile was just found hanged in his house in Aberdeen.
Travis read from the fax: He left behind a wife and three children, one of whom became deaf at the age of 14 with no medical explanation whatsoever. This caused a rift between him and his wife that had become a problem in his life that he refused to leave at home. Gradually he lost all the respect of his fellow scientists, despite his being one of the top heart specialists in the U.S.A. and Canada. His funeral is Sunday.
Im flying out early, kiddo. Its hello fucking Seattle!
I gave him my friends P.O. box number and told him to send a postcard with the f-word on it somewhere. Its as simple as that sometimes, you know. Good luck, Travis. Maybe youll even get to sleep with the dead scientists widow, eh?
I got a call from Travis Cambridge a few minutes ago while typing this. Apparently hes leaving New York City for Seattle, to spend a month documenting the growth of a cloned alligator.
Asking him what the devil they might be up to with cloning alligators in Washington, Travis said, and I quote: Do you think the Murder City Devils will ever get back together, by the way?
How the fuck Travis gets well-paid month-long reporting projects and seems never to truly find himself reasonably relating to anything even for just a few seconds, I guess well all never know. Shortly after he told me about the laboratory in Seattle and how there was a dreadful fire there which ravaged the fucking place last year, he excused himself to answer a fax, at which point he started giggling practically like a child, and came running back to the telephone where I was waiting, blammering on about how one of the scientists in charge of monitoring the heart progress of the clone reptile was just found hanged in his house in Aberdeen.
Travis read from the fax: He left behind a wife and three children, one of whom became deaf at the age of 14 with no medical explanation whatsoever. This caused a rift between him and his wife that had become a problem in his life that he refused to leave at home. Gradually he lost all the respect of his fellow scientists, despite his being one of the top heart specialists in the U.S.A. and Canada. His funeral is Sunday.
Im flying out early, kiddo. Its hello fucking Seattle!
I gave him my friends P.O. box number and told him to send a postcard with the f-word on it somewhere. Its as simple as that sometimes, you know. Good luck, Travis. Maybe youll even get to sleep with the dead scientists widow, eh?
VIEW 12 of 12 COMMENTS
decommissioned:
There wasn't much left of that kid after the operation, you know. I'm starting to think it wasn't such a good idea stealing Benjamin's toolbox from the shed. But who knows? Things always have their way of falling straight down in the mud. Can I borrow some money from you, Jeremy?
burialrabbits:
"I can't," he said before falling onto his knees. "They'll know."