With the locusts thrumming their hypnotic sound and a couple of little rends twittering that fast talk of a song, the fat summer morning was turning into a bloated hot afternoon. One fly landed on top of his head while another snuck down to the back of his knee. At the same instance he made for that tormentor from Hell, that satanic angle, that wicked piece of gods creation, on the top of his head, the stealthy ass hole on the back of his knee, excreted acid, dissolved his flesh, then sucked it up though a proboscis. Its hard to say if it was pain or more like an electric shock. And as such, Lucky went down as if the riot police from some southern district had knee capped him like a Yankee college student.
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| Mati Klarwein |
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