 |
What a time Rupert had last night. He must have slept with seven hookers, and used zero protection. It was great. Now he was walkin’ home, and what was this, a small television, sitting abandoned on the street corner by Jay’s Keys n’ Things?
Rupert inspected it and found it relatively clean, and not appearing broken on the outside. He would take it home and make it his, like he had let those seven hookers do with him less than twelve hours ago. If it was broken, then he would throw it the fuck out, but if it was not, then he would watch television on it, and videos, in his bedroom.
He already had a TV in the living room, but he did not sleep in the living room, and he would like to watch TV whilst he lay in bed preparing for slumber. This is directly where he brought it. He set it on his dresser, clearing away his empty booze bottles, and plugged the prongs into a nearby socket. Then he flipped the switch, expecting to find the scratch fuzz of unavailable channels.
What he saw instead shocked and maimed his psyche. It destroyed and disgusted the frameset of his mind, and disrupted his brainwaves. Blood vessels and capillaries busted and melted in his brain, and he went into complete shock. He fell to the floor, not dead, not unconscious, simply mad and broken. Now, he was never to die, never to be free of the images, thoughts and ideas portrayed to him from that television.
|
|