Eight stories for EI8HT, continued

Three

They met at a bar frequented by revolutionaries and writers of zines. He wore a mock turtleneck and camo pants. She wore a leather skirt and a t-shirt strategically ripped to show off the tattoo in her cleavage. Said tattoo depicts Jesus riding a pegacorn, you know, those unicorns with wings. Jesus is wearing an FDNY trucker cap and crying tears of blood. Lazer-bolts from the pegacorn’s eyes are smiting these caricatures of Bin Laden, Hussein and Nader, who are groveling at its hooves.

He said “Rad tat” and then they commenced to sticking their tongues down each other’s throats. Grinding their skeletons together, mashing the muscles between them, bruising each other’s lips and hips. In the general snoggery, his mustache came completely unwaxed and hung limply down his face. He was so embarrassed he ran out of the bar, sticking her with the tab. Dick.

 

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