martin ivison >>
white male, blue eyes, brown hair
82 kg, 181cm
with two children
a scattered family >>
a former life in music >>
a fondness for alphabet soup >>
and continuing aspirations

201107, Seattle

"Wait," Deth said.
"Come back some time," Deth said. "You'll know where to find us, right? Just go where it rains."
All four of them were no holding their objects together. The objects hummed and the air around them grew blurry and a silver sheen appeared on their bodies. The falling sleet evaporated above them like hitting a shield, and single star appeared on the darkened sky. A low hum vibrated their diaphragms like the passing bass of a pimp-mobile, and in an instant the bubble collapsed and they were gone.
Francine, Deth and Pigsty stood alone in the falling sleet.
"Well, why don't you, Miss Beautiful, and Mr. Cosmo here, and me, have another drink? Policies relaxed. What do you say?"
Francine nodded and took both their hands, "I didn't think I would ever say this, but if there was the time ..."
"Say what?"
"Merry Fucken Christmas."
(from Merrily On High)

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