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1941: A short story

Updated on February 2, 2013

It's a normal January day, with 30 down on 4 I peek up and look at the score. The roulette revolver speeds up, twirling around once more. 19-41 I think in my head as the background crowd begins to roar. "hey can you turn that thing down" I mutter under my breath, "I'm tryin' to place a bet"... That's what you get the dealer check's, 'you gotta speak up son','show some respect'. At this point I realize this guy must bee derelict and low in intelligent intellect. In in in or out he stammers out, studdering aloud like bank bound trout. "all in" I shout to this incompetent grouch, 'f*ck you asshole' can only bee seen mumbling from his mouth.

'33'!!! The squealer screams, "shit" outta cash as I check over empty pocket jeans. This ain't my scene as slot machines begin to sing, ringing out a tiny silver jing-a-ling. Tin is payin' down piling a mound of change, yes this is the sound... Of profit, a gamble, a stage. Lit like a candlestick glowin' gold poles & red flames, everyone around me already knows, bloodshot highs can't hide behind four-eyes... There is no disguise by this time, 22:49... Much to early for these sleepy slumber rhymes to already bee attacking my mind.

I'm fine I'm fine, grinnin' ear to ear with a pearly white tooth shine, carrot cracks... Ya' wuz up doc, here chew on this rock... You'll bee fine, or grind and grind until your jaw gets fined... Written up for being a stupid f*ck, glass shatters the mind's. Eye mind's in the center projector prosecutor execution exterminator, P P E E... Yes you can see... Now cover your right eye and read the next line in paragraph 3.

Not really a graph... It's reading see and this is section 4, getting bored??? Well then lets soar... Hail Mary touchdown, adding up the score. Coach tic's as another dream slips, away into time & frame... Only thoughts of memory remain, painted green with artificial grass stains. Turf astro smurf look at the mushroom and break the curse, hearse doesn't carry a nurse so check you're nerves before hitting the curves. Windy roads lead to the inside of your soul where no-one else can go, when you get there you will know... So you make the call... Or maybe just watch the replay flash bye, in super slow-mo


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