Tuesday, August 19, 2008


ribit, ribit.

Brandon had almost certainly suffered a mild form of cardiac arrest. He was bent over on all fours. To complement his heart troubles his mind was suffering the indignity of trying to contain a multiplicity of errant thoughts all at once: Was he going die? Kill the flying man. Melanie stuck. Rubbish bin. Learn to fly and what was that stupid noise?


A green wall was moving toward him.

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