Chapter 6

Lunch Break. A liturgy taught by the ringing bells of our youth. Cutting into pills with steak knives, slicing off slivers of speed and barbiturates that numb and drive the populace. All
you can eat 6 Martini Lunch Special neon bright bulimic projectile vomit spattered stalls.

Rank and file stumble out of fluorescent lit offices into the streets shading eyes with designer sunglasses and hands, it permanently overcast but the light is still to bright white and burns unprotected skin. Vendors sell hotdogs slathered with hallucinogenic oils and pills scooped on like fried onions. The bitter reek of chalky stimulants permeates the air mixing with diesel fumes as drunks swill wood alcohol, long blind their distended bellies straining at threadbare vomit covered shirts. Like above-ground moles they hug The City's walls and follow the scent of their kind.

Smell of retch and mouthwash

An Orca was spotted in the harbour and was immediately set upon by a trio of slant-eyed bloodthirsty men in crimson kimonos. The whale is harpooned and dragged ashore on the beach where with long blades and cleavers it is disassembled, The pink fatty flesh is processed into small cubes which still bloody were served on tight sticky rice packets to a throng of people eager to taste the destruction of something pure and beautiful.

The Whore was fast asleep but slow to dream.

It was 12pm

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