I really didn't think anything of it at first.

  • I really didn't think anything of it at first. It looked like any other bathroom stall you'd find at any rest stop in America. I didn't even notice the graffiti message scrawled
  • on my back. According to my watch, I passed out for 2 hours, or maybe a day + 2 hours. I emerged from the bathroom and scanned one of the rest stop's maps. Baltimore?
  • I stepped outside and sank to my waist into a bubbling swamp. Baltimoreans were zapping about in individual pods. I'd slept for centuries. Ruins covered in moss punctuated the
  • carousel that used to be by home. The Baltimoreans had destroyed it, and I had nowhere to go. I was all alone in the horrible city of
  • a town the Baltimoreans called Baltimore. The Baltimoreans named most things from a dark place inspired by cheap liquor and crab cakes. I desperately needed real drama.
  • And boy did I get one! I was walking along this dark alleyway when a group of young punks jumped me. I moaned with anticipation. But they turned around and ran off, shrieking.
  • Desperate, I hired an escort service gigolo who took one look & offered me double his rate NOT to do it. The crackerjack plastic surgeon I reached out to just waved a white flag.
  • "That's the last time I have a plastic crackerjack plastic surgeon work on me!" I growled as women, spying my face through their curtians, grabbed their children off the streets.
  • Many flowers were destroyed by the little brats. They were arsonists. The famine of 2017 was blamed on them.
  • As punishment, each child had a limb taken away. Those various body parts were roasted over a slow fire, and served with a side of butter.


Want to leave a comment?

Sign up!