FUNK 58

Black Star Death Tune

Code.

Repeat.

Black Star Death Tune

I closed my eyes and prayed.

Marshmallows are an underrated object. Are they even food? I’d go with objects. Or memory. The consistency and the love that pre-eaten burning on a stick over a fire ‘mallows have felt. A symbol.

I was a marshmallow. Now.

Here in this world. The bathtub wanker was still wanking.

Someone was under the bed again.

That cabin was nice, I was there. No. It was here.

I was on the beach. And on the highway.

Godwit really was a magnificent bird.

This is the perfect way to do it.

We can still die. It’s a choice.

A bad choice?

The only option.

Left.

Stupid Music is a great name.

Dentists are fucking Nazis.

My mind. The fridge. The city. Rough day?

We’re all out of cream cheese.

Her arsehole was such a delight.

Turkish.

Jennifer?

Best be getting back to work.

Why is there a plane here?

An aeroplane on my paperback and in my coffee.

Coffin. Big. Steal. Coffin.

Just one more sip.

Look in the mirror. You’re balding.

Again.

Oh no.

Oh well.

Is this the end?

It’s the end of something.

What. Whathing.

Wha.

Three sugars. Why the fuck not.

Yeah, Steal. Turn the lights off.

The lights are gone.

They left with Marj, stuffed in the garbage bags her body parts were thrown in.

She took the rape like a pro. Great victim.

The cutting was superb.

How did she die?

My hands inside her open neck.

When will Christmas feel like Christmas again.

Is that a question.

Is that. Was that. Is this?

Yeah.

A girlfriend of mine once said I looked like an old bass guitar player in an old British band. I looked him up and he was a fraud, an ugly rat fraud too.

Cocaine and Music were a rich man’s game.

Anyway. Any way.

I was so polite. Or maybe just squeamish.

Stabbing. I never really got much of anything out of it. A means to an end.

I just wanted them dead.

Dead people are more fun. It’s the living versions that do all the stupid shit.

A big fat dildo, flesh coloured, electronic. Shoots milk.

I stuck it to the TV.

The television.

Is there anything better than an ice cold homemade lemonade on a muggy hot summer’s afternoon?

Ask the Witch Doctor.

Okay.

It don’t come cheap. Don’t come easy.

Dream Smashing.

That’ll be 4.99.

Most people are trash.

The wires and cables and screaming snow.

Show Me Your Bleeding Cunt 😀

And Arse Hole ::::DDDD

Machines and Fluffy Animals.

That’s all you need. Me and Them.

Love and worship yourself.

Worth the whole wide world.

A biscuit in a drawer.

The nuclear reality.

Brutal world.

In a mad world.

In a world gone mad.

Black Star Death Tune

It just kept going and going. And going.

Black Star Death Tune

It did stop for a moment

It was a real nice long moment

About this long —

—

But then

Black Star Death Tune

What happened to Stevie?

What happened to Erin?

What happened to the rest? What about the rest?

Black Star Death Tune

Do you have any idea what the FUNK Spinner is or was?

Black Star Death Tune

I knew. I knew somehow. I knew. I knew somehow Little Brown Girl already knew, she knew. She did know.

Black Star Death Tune

Cock Arse Fuck Shit

Black Star Death Tune

MENU

FUNK 58

...PART 8

JOIN THE FIGHT

© Brad Nicholls