Sunday, 31 January 2010

Nuances of the Nightmare

It was a subtly nuanced nightmare and it had been on-going for 26 years.
There were times when he thought of himself as part of a tradition, mistook himself for part of a tradition.
Gazing out the window of the upper deck of the bus, gazing speculatively at female pedestrians.
Vain, self-aggrandizing notions flowing cooly behind his eyes.

The preposterous wee cunt had this wee box thing a wee plastic box that made all these weird whirring sounds man when ye pit batteries in the cunt.

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