The Smell

By Abel Ashes (All rights reserved)

The zinc creamed proboscis of a large reclining humanoid on a green vinyl folding deck chair is hideously nestled against a red and white striped soda straw, bent where it ripples.
The fat disgusting fuck is slurping light sweet crude by the barrel like a noisy Japanese family enjoying hot noodle soup.
His cocaine and methamphetamine ravaged nostrils are mildly irritated by a stupid paper parasol peeking out of his toxic oily beverage and resting against his pudgy sweaty face.
The backdrop has clearly been painted by slobs.
Huge heaps of garbage ripe with hot sticky diapers and last month’s Chinese food are beckoning rats, pigeons and seagulls toward their bounty of tetanus, hepatitis, botulism, salmonella and e coli.
To the left of the overfed imbecile stands a large group of small children of multi-national origins with their hair engulfed in flames and their faces frozen in silent screams.
This is where he lights his cigars.


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