A man frequents a building. It is a tall building, one that scrapes the skies. There is a woman. They meet. When it rains, they ride the elevator to his penthouse where he offers her a new life. It is a life without labor, one so far divorced from her origins that she dies a little death with each of his gestures. They fuck. On sunny days they fuck in the stairwell, in her world. Why?
Sunday, June 15, 2014
The Mysterious Fucked Man
A fucked man lies dead in a locked room. Other than his super fly Arundhati Roy t-shirt and a puddle of water there is nothing else in the room. How did he die?
The Thing
The maker doesn't fuck it. The fucker doesn't want it. The fuckee never sees it. What is it?
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