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I stumbled upon an overturned truck full of pepto bismol, the supply covering the road and the truck driver half-mad, face covered with pink. Together we consumed the bounty, face first like dogs, lapping with extended tongues, grateful for this rare opportunity. Soon we were indistinguishable from the mess on the road, so enveloped in pink muck. Time has no meaning any more, all is pepto. The truck remained on the road after the liquid was sopped up by our increasingly sponge-like tongues. What next? Indigestion and diarrhea are distant memories, and our physical selves are forever changed, now consumption is all. We set upon the wreck with our tube bodies, lapping up the miscellaneous liquid: oil, antifreeze, petrol. Our task complete, we expelled our byproduct from a polished sphincter: vanilla scented mist that floats away, pollinating nearby flowers and rejuvenating the earth. All thanks to the bounty of pepto bismol. |
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Dec 3, 2016 09:10
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| # ¿ Apr 30, 2024 06:50 |
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