This is the House of Sally Sun. The house music pounds hard. The needle jumps off the record and skips a beat. Confusion follows a moment of silence, and then, a startling thud when the loud speakers are whipped into the wall.
Welcome.
Hang your hat next to the half-assed flute playing riddlers.
Tape their fucking mouths shut.
Place your shoes on top of Billy’s pathetic fifth grade crayola homework.
Smear dirt across the page.
Sit down.
Wait.
1 comment:
just hungry.
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