The coroner drops the brain onto the scale.

The coroner drops the brain onto the scale. Scribbles a note. "Well?" asks Det. Manatee, munching on a celery stick. The coroner shuts his notebook. "Erototoxin overdose." He takes

a breath, and chuckles, "Must have been quite an orgasm!"

Unfortunately, that was the last we heard of the pair of them.

They said they would be right back with Sprite and Wheat Thins but they never returned. The police asked why the couple would leave their own apartment and we could only shrug.

No one really knew. I thought it was because they had stolen the identities of the real people who lived there. Casing the joint, looking for sprite and wheat thins, gold to a

leprechaun, I realised that I had to urinate uncontrollably. I tried to run to the nearest corner as inconspicuously as possible, but

it's halcyon warmth like a melting sugar cookie. I was peeing my pants, and man, I didn't care. A sense of animal freed spread through my jollies like and STD at a

hooker convention. A siren blared in the distance. Suddenly i wanted to take it all back- the euphoria, the criminal acts, the time I slapped my Poppa back, the lies, the ruination

so I could experience doing them all over again for the first time. But I knew it wasn't worth it because I would have to go through the bad shit also. At least I had Paris, Texas.