| The Excisist... |
| And once upon a strange orange's peel that had been discarded into the trash behind a 7-11, a very small copy of a surrealist short story was found. It read something like this: There was a man, in ancient Rome, or perhaps modern day New Jersey (it's hard to tell the difference) who made a living in a dark back alley, removing tumors from anything and everything that had unwanted cells. Rats, sometimes were the best customers, and some other times he found people from Beverly Hills to be the way to go. He had taken growths off parts of the body that most people don't even know exist. Such the grizzled man as this you wouldn't nessesarily expect to hold a grudge against such simple people as the United States government. But everyone has their breaking point. So finally, on the 5th of March, or was it the 12th of January, the writing is small and covered in Vitamin C, I apologize for not being able to fully understand it, but finally one day he could take no more. And as you all know, when a back alley physician has reached his limit you had better move your ass to Conneticut. After all that's where Yale is, or used to be I don't know. At this point the writing cut off as the rest of the orange peel had been removed by a precise scalple movement. I guess he didn't want us to know his name.... |