Tuesday, November 8, 2016

each one is a setting sun

The door to Hillary's inner sanctum burst open, her inert bulk strapped to a gurney.

"Oh, Allah! Save her! Save my love!" Huma wailed as she followed them in.

One of Hillary's bloated hands waved in the air weakly as she was attached to monitors.

"She's crashing!" one of the attendants yelled. Blind priests surrounded them and began to chant in ancient languages not mean for the human tongue. Blood ran from their mouths.

"Huma," Hillary said weakly.

"Yes, my love," she said, rushing to her side.

"The Old Ones… why have they forsaken me?"

"I don't know, my love."

"The stars were right…" Hillary fainted and her mouth gaped open.

An attendant took Huma by the shoulders and pulled her away. "You must let them help her," he murmured.

The doctor examining her vomited loudly and then gasped, "Bring me two kilograms of orphan meat."

"Orphan meat? But doctor, she's no libertarian!' his assistant exclaimed.

The doctor turned on him, the incense-thick air swirling around him. "Bring me orphan meat, damn you! ORPHAN MEAT!"

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