He just kind of melts out of that theater. It's the badly kept one on the corner of arch where it meets the bad end of main. He slinkys out, hunched like he never learned real posture, or real spine. Hands laid in the pockets of his pastel blue aquamarine windbreaker. Yeah, the one with the Leslie Neilsen hair and the Snidely Whiplash boner. He walks to short, and talks like tom waits as if he never went through puberty. A trickle of high pitched babble through gravel, like the emissions of a noisy culvert. He'd look like a tough hood if it wasn't for the pervasive grease, which any seeming of character would slide off of. The vaguely meaty smell of the semen and the cheap cigarette smoke clings to him as he exits, and he meets her on the corner.
Now she's a piece of sad work. Her head is canted forwards on her neck like a bird's, and the rest of her head looks like she was designed in a wind tunnel. Her teeth cant forward slightly , her lips extend, and there are a few hairs where the chin ought to be. There's weight around her hips. Too much weight, and there's a wrongness in the shelf they seem to form off the sides of her. Looks like she was purpose build to shuffle up to people's ears, to whisper scandal and gossips, with too warm breath and the occasional drop of spittle. I can't think of how she'd survive insinuating anything.
The two critters stand at the bus stop, neither really noticing each other, until the 56 bus comes around the bend from the public library parking lot, yeah the place where you could get rough trade for a dollar in the 70's. Yeah, the turtle statue is pretty fitting, considering that. With a heavily manifolded diesel wheeze, the bus magicians them off, and that crawly feeling goes with them. There's someone for everyone, they say, in their case it's an Aesop sort of cautionary.
Now she's a piece of sad work. Her head is canted forwards on her neck like a bird's, and the rest of her head looks like she was designed in a wind tunnel. Her teeth cant forward slightly , her lips extend, and there are a few hairs where the chin ought to be. There's weight around her hips. Too much weight, and there's a wrongness in the shelf they seem to form off the sides of her. Looks like she was purpose build to shuffle up to people's ears, to whisper scandal and gossips, with too warm breath and the occasional drop of spittle. I can't think of how she'd survive insinuating anything.
The two critters stand at the bus stop, neither really noticing each other, until the 56 bus comes around the bend from the public library parking lot, yeah the place where you could get rough trade for a dollar in the 70's. Yeah, the turtle statue is pretty fitting, considering that. With a heavily manifolded diesel wheeze, the bus magicians them off, and that crawly feeling goes with them. There's someone for everyone, they say, in their case it's an Aesop sort of cautionary.