She cradled his head and let out a blood-curtling

She cradled his head and let out a blood-curtling scream. The rain pounded the sidewalk and leaked down her brunette tresses. She looked like a drowned rat, but she didn't care,

he'd been the only person who held her to beauty standards above "drowned rat," something like "a shape with a pulse." Now she could let herself go. Her scalp was coated with sebum

peanut M&M's and Jolt cola. Now the she had what she needed she jumped into the English channel. She paddled on her back to conserve energy. Swimming next to her was a giant

French seal. She said, "Could you show me the way to Le Havre. I have a cousin there who owns a goose. I need her to kill it and smear its fat over my body." They swam into the har

bour, navigating around the many drowned men from the Seine. She clambered up onto a pier & made her way to her cousin's. "Kill your goose & smear its fat over my body," she said.

The she had Asp the mortician cast a mask of her face which they sold as the beautiful L'inconnue de la Seine. The morbid fascination with the "death mask" drove many artists to

cast a death mask of their own face, and decorate them with obscure designs. Then they would disrobe, claw their own eyes out, and put the masks on. They would then dance sexily in

cognito...as if no one could recognize them. I'd seen those corpulant thighs before. "You're not fooling anyone, you know." I flicked my cigarette in Fat Fatima's direction. Bloody

hell what was I thinking about. The disguises would work on normal people, people not in the know. But Fat Fatima wasn't fooling me, not a bit. "What are you doing here?"