Nut turns his head skyward for once and sees the implications of his actions. Flee, Nut. Jump in the juniper bush or never jump again. Try to hide on the trainway or never go anywhere ever again. I swear, if they find you it's into the acid bath you go. No time to think about getting clean. There are more important things to do, like trying to trace the smell that you found on the seatcushion. Was it her?
Hump that steel pole, Nut. Make friends with it and imagine tiny families living on it because it's going to be pressed against ur nose for the rest of this trip. And you can't move, Nut. You can't blink an eye. Thank God you can sleep. Thank God you have an imagination.
The hovertrain glides on its way, blinking its lights above the city streets so that nobody wanders up there drunk and decides the trackway would be a nice place to pass out. When you're drunk, you don't really care if you're going to die. As long as you get some sleep. Maybe, if you're sober, you can hide beneath the trackway, and watch what happens. Still dangerous, though. You might see Nut flashing by at 500 MPH, humping his world, the steel pole.
Nutso by no varied means had a red flaming cow intermittently reflected in her eyeball. His eyeball was reflecting the sun. Her myopic pathway two the million-mirror masturbation session. Straight nto the steel poles yet again, this time with a shard of glass through the eyeball. Her lips are red with vaginal liquor, her generation being the last. A million dicks in the mirror, with purplish swaying size and power. Each one sports a tuft of semen.
But even with the godly juice of godhood goggling her seams apart, she manages to trip over a dead drunk. Asshole mouth and choadish nose, vagina eyes and pubic wig. Settling on a nighttime butterfly, the joint drops from her mouth as she sees the shadow behind the curtain. The street is a platform over the blazing sex-juice of Satan's realm.
Once, she recollects, some wisewoman told her "The cop's shoe can be a penis in the eye. Remember your friends when you're in jail". The asshole speaks with sickening breath. The vagina eyes flutter.
So in a feverish longing for flesh-possession, a dusky Nut drunk on her own excretia, lowered herself onto the steel pole. Like the nighttrain passing through hear head a million times a second, the deepest part of her cunt shot electricity to her brain. Shone pushes hard with both hands against the clit. Vaginal fart.
In a fit of intoxicated lust she entered his sideways shuffling homebound blind and barely upright body,
Big brown eyes. Vagina mouth. Mother is floating somewhere in the sewer, fondling her cunt. Red flaming cow sweats and eats grass as the peasants fuck in the fields. The Kings of Intoxication rule the land. The sun is id-red. The son of Shone shrinks under the shimmering sun.
And poor battered Flick-booty left behind, looking like an ash-faced victim of a homicidal beating. Spit raps his baseball bat along the sidewalk, to wake up all the teenage girls. They march out in droves, wearing nightgowns, oversized t-shirts, and sometimes nothing at all. One parent steps out to protest and Spit clubs him with the bat until the eyeballs fall onto the sidewalk, like little globes on umbilical cords.
Spit, the silly shit, didn't pass out on the tracks. He caught the hovertain (and a bad cold!). The homebound passengers shiver and nervously, secretly rub their private organs. A girl is eating her father's eyes.