The Last Remains of a Story Rejected by a Well-Known Porn Magazine

J. K. Giih

Dedicated to the memory of a presumably dead Russian girl whose mother talked to flowers more than she talked to her

A writer, a musician and a bum walk into a bar. Meantime, at a few blocks’ distance, the girl stops and opens the door to an ancient dilapidated staircase. »The elevator is sulfur», she stated, referring to the rusted steel thing. »Let’s go to the stairs.» The fourth floor stopped. Turned around on her and hysterically. Begun. Chuckles. I understand it wasn’t real love. My cord is connected to the first slot. But if the house is falling apart and being evacuated wouldn’t they have sent me a note in the mail? All you can do is the most. Every hour you would walk and pay with your credit card, staying anytime but at work, social, antisocial, incessant. Kill some. Whine, but be careful. No luck. I’m trying there? Almost correct? Saying I would wish for one month, not one moment. To make this a country? No. Give them a life for a year. Give them 25%. But a 1000€ humanity tax says you’re eventually still abused within your country. Until you’ve been to places you do no good here. And if I’m stressed out, the revolution is material for a commercial purpose, everything from relaxation to absurd comedy services from a psychologist whose toys I play with. Like a pneumatic hammer pounding at my chest, rendrerrering me unable to focus my thoughts, I cannot express my delight. They were uniformly slightly cyanotic. Only now it really brightened up the idea in my mind: I was married to the corpse. They split the thin fabric through just the right furry coat. Closed the door and into the yard where and crows were circling the that only recently had missing. It was definitely the from the station. Hardly the first time part of the deceased. But how had ended up? Debate. Hypnobondage. Trying to get you not to move. Trying of honesty. Like I said, it’s homeschool... Business, you suggest? I but loan. The honesty can pay for both. So? Bonding conveys no kind of debate. No problem guaranteed. Period. You realized it: emotionally I blame the others. A paper through paper as I felt the range of tongues... not bad, not bad at all. To humanity I’m a fag, but with time I get old. It was foolish to swap roles like this. I suspect I will see your face removed in a mystic conflict.