2020. THE FUTURE. Our desperate band has constructed a faux tiny car made from reeds and plastic shopping bags. The trap is baited. We wait.
Tonight... we feast on clown flesh.
My brothers and sisters, adorned in the scraps of civilization, skinny and tired from sleeping in drafty caved-in skyscrapers, hold their breath.
The warm haze never lifts. The city's half under water.
But somewhere out there... we hear the honk of a red nose.
My brothers and sisters, adorned in the scraps of civilization, skinny and tired from sleeping in drafty caved-in skyscrapers, hold their breath.
The warm haze never lifts. The city's half under water.
But somewhere out there... we hear the honk of a red nose.