After walking home

After walking home from town, approximately 8 kilometres, being shitcold and freezing I obviously have to have a giant FLY – of all things, trapped in my room. And I don’t mind them usually, they don’t harm me much, except that constant buzzing. Well – this, as I said; was a particularly huge, black fly, and it couldn’t be called buzzing, because it was practically a sawmill.

Mad as I went, only short moments later, I decided that this poor fly, which was probably due dead in September, and not December during -15 degrees Celsius – had to die. At first I tried wacking it with a magazine, it was a Game Factor magazine, issue 54 that I stole at a kebab shop during a particular moist night out in October. But, predictably – my slightly sideways reflexes failed at putting this creature down. So I had to kill it with hairspray.

Now it’s very silent in my room, the only sound is the cracking of ice as my thighs are melting inside my pyjamas. And then there’s also the irregular pop of my braincells dying from all the hairspray-toxins circling around my head.

My feet are also a little soft after walking in the cold for one and a half hours.

Here is a preview of the gingerbread lighthouse by the way;


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