The rain hit outside, each drop emitting the sound of a dying crab. Damn I wish I lived somewhere warm and yet not actually on fire. There were little bison floating about the room. I was going to have to call someone about it. Suddenly, my door shot open, battering some tiny bison into comas. It was a woman. She wore a dress that seemed to show a video of a taxi being attacked by a man with a bat. I was entranced and kind of felt hungry.
She told me of things that shouldn't be mentioned outside of arcades and greengrocers. Apparently her dog had escaped and was running wild, commiting credit card fraud and grand sculptures of her left ankle. Apparently the dog ran upright after being taught by a man in a grating. She would pay me in poignant and sad expiriences I would remember when I was dying. And a brick of money as large as a dead baby. This sounded reasonable.
As I stepped into the rain, I heard the cacophony of a brigade of men in rainbow short-shorts and tricorns combatting and enormous set of drawers.
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