Sick in front of the television from
eating a fortune cookie that he'd found in a nuclear reactor.
“You will rather successfully employ martial arts
as a pick-up line in a bar two blocks from where you live.”
But he realized that he'd first need to optimize his overalls,
for they'd be doing the talking; the spoon that was going to
serve as his spine had a tennis elbow.
His own vomit's harsh consonants digging graves
in the television for the characters of the soap he was
watching and lewdly enjoying to lie down in and sleep.
These graves were slack wet bags of exact body temperature.
A symptom of radium poisoning are bug eyes that
upload per liter. Similar to the stamp collector's disease
which facilitates fractals of huge Mars jugs to drop into their
pawn shop irises. Some collectors make out optical illusions
of smiley logos in clouds – they usually don't have long to live.
Unfortunately, radium is a drug that induces the afflicted to perform
deep knee-bends, and after some time one becomes pretty
stressed from the unbeatable impulse.
The old man reached for the cabinet next to him, opened
its doors, and fluttered his hand around in its ether.
Next door, his neighbor, a woman almost twice his age, was struck,
for the first time, by the fact of how much her living room
resembled a psychedelic gas station. In her bathroom stood a
battle mech shaving, muttering something about the relation
between sex and its tube.