They were Mermonkeys, sort of like Planet of the Apes meets the Little Mermaid. Or like Free Willy meets Gorillas in the Mist. Or like Finding Nemo meets Godzilla. Or like King Kong meets A Fish Called Wandanventham. Life has become that surreal three years later. Imagine that! Max Ernst was painting a suitably surrealstic portrait of Donald Trump and the Shark Lady, which shocked the latter. Shark Lady was shocked to see that Max Ernst had placed her naked in bed with Donald The Trump. The worse part was that he had painted the birthmark on her inner thigh. How did he know that the Periodic table would come to life so quickly and would form a satirical alarm clock screaming monster which would wake me from my complacency with its biting remarks. Now I was woke, but could no longer remember any elements. My lab fell slowly to ruin, ivy growing up across the phlebotomists and toxicologists. Later, when more woke, I got creative & converted the lab into a dressmaker’s shop, using the lead pathologist’s mummified corpse as a mannequin. It was the very beginning of my plans to hold a fashion show using only the deceased for models. Getting them to walk required a roboticist engineer, and it was time to design some fabulous necrotic fashion for them to model. The show would be called 'Funeral Chic - the Graveyard Edit'. Shades of earth and stone would be key. The dead models would be no longer living and barely breathing poster children in a George A. Romero flick. In fact, get Romero, dead since 2017, to MC! Just look—I mean dig—him up at his grave in Toronto!

 

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