I open the cargo hold hatch, while holding on tight.
LUH from “THX 1138” is driving an egg shaped vehicle like from the movie, “Sleeper.”
I see that my Le Mans has been delivered finally.
Hems the bleeding colors chaste.
Our Rebel Alliance Commander is wearing a white shirt, Bermuda shorts, and flip flops.
A gluttonous happily whore.
I look out over the skyline, and I wonder: Is he dead? Or is he alive still somewhere in that rat race?
The digital counter reminds me of the Dow Jones Financial Ticker.
I retrieve the badger steaks, and feed the fox back to life.
I dance on the tips of my oversized shoes.