Saturday, 25 September 2010


Satan was ambling down 5th Avenue when he witnessed a feral boy punching a fearful, feeble looking boy.
"Cool," he murmured, a sound like ice and wind chimes.
His hooves clicked methodically on the sparkling November sidewalk. The wind sounded like a radio tuned in between stations. The sky was a vast stagnant grey.
Actually it was night time. And the setting was Edinburgh, not New York. The street was Prince's Street, not 5th Avenue.
God, how he missed New York. How he missed many things. Like his girlfriend, for example.
Still, there was no point in dwelling on ancient history. He may as well relish all the opportunities for gratuitous cruelty that the present offered.

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