Thursday, September 21, 2017

Berlin 2

His skin is moist. This is because it is drawn tight, and he is exerting what is left of his pulmonary system to breathe. So he sweats a lot. His eyes fog up his glasses on most days. He habitually licks his lips, but he likes this humid weather because he takes a lot of blood thinners now.

People like to come to his parties. He usually has two girls, both dark brown and brought to this country. They change like the rotating taps in his brew pubs. The only time he wept was when he shot the last rhinoceros, because there would be no more to shoot.

Of course, his fingers are thick and like sausages. They know all the assholes. You can hear something like a snore when he is considering his next move. Don’t think he’s asleep, that’s how you get lured in, as though there is a sac full of bio-luminescent bacteria on a tendril hanging in front of his fat face.

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