Some fly by the seat of their amps jagoff Beatles cover band had just finished their faux rooftop set in a cursory attempted homicide of Norwegian Wood (it was no good), and were rolling their bussed in geriatric fanclub down the switchbacks of wheelchair ramps along with their stage.
No sooner had they jumpstarted a few hearts, incidentally, off a wall of mutilated sound, were they relocated to barstools in a dark and gutless lounge walking distance away, faux infighting, pitting their Lennon against their McCartney, in decidedly Canadian English to the tune of a couple rounds of Seagrams Sevens lowballs.
Up up and away on the roof where they left it, a blood soaked groupie lay down with ear to the cement for some train come listen frozen still posture, carelessly angled out across the parking space spraypainted parallel white lines.
He was young enough not to discern quality from the wall of mutilated sound washed away. He was old enough apparently to get himself thrill killed. Caught in the cymbals. The cross fissured fractures outlining his skull.
His pulse quickly tapered, his eyes they went dull. Blood pooled all about him. So long, Jethro Tull.
The days of laptops and tablets and cell phones subsided into a sea of fourth world residuals 3d printed out in the dark of light and night of day, via second hand servers globally attuned to pipeline transmissions.
Beneath it all was a bitcoin traffic jam the size of Luxembourg.
The royal family of Amazon decried the undercutting of their undercut. In senseless haste, they waged war on Penguin, which beat a retreat on a mechanical bird straight to Mars.
Cause despite all of modern devolution, everyone reluctantly confessed to their anonymous divinities… in this year of our (insert divinity preference here) 2120, penguins still cannot fly.
When she wanted somethin bad enough, she got sweet like high fructose corn syrup.
She would turn her head to an angle most becoming through his eyes of her figure, a calculation she fine tuned in response to the f-stop of his dilated pupils. Her lashes flicked like butterflies alighting.
The moment his attention shifted from the galaxy s, operation tweet unfollow, to her revival theatrics sillhouette girlfriend experience, she popped the suddenly rhetorical question…