KrangkaDelic 458 Posted October 2, 2015 The following sunrise brought much to MacLean: revelations, shame, blinding headaches. He coughed his brown vomitus into the porcelain vortex and slumped onto the tiles. 'Fuck writing a book, he thought - they'd never get it anyway, the cunts.' No. No, a book is not the answer - especially in todays' economy...but what about a web series? No no no again he missed the boat on that one. Kevin Smith would block him once more and he could not take yet another public emasculation. Progress, money, not vomiting - all these things eluded him. Even his robo-whore seems tarnished somehow and ill suited to raise his spirits ... all seemed so positive last night - the manuscript - the robo whore, the last of the sloe gin he had gained from the knackers. But now, as the sunlight burned through his sinuses and the reek rising from the bowl like thick fog all seemed lost once more. 1 Share this post Link to post
