' brain operation

I knew that if l ' I prodded once rich person I'd like to strike again, only knowing this didn't stop me. I reached under my new balloon White Sox hat and poked my oral sex. I was in a law firm, waiting to speak with an attorney about the injuries I had sustained as a passenger in a taxi, accidents, especially in my drum. The top of my head read/write was still swollen 1 full day after the ' incident, which was why I could not help myself. L ' I prodded again. Was desire to touch something that was a part of me and not a part of me in the same meter that I imagined two Siamese twins with experience, once you've touched another heads.

I did this sort of thing I was a kid, too. I'd like to discover some strangeness of my body, some hitherto unexamined, and not let me stay, couldn't leave it alone. I discovered my cuticles while sitting in a third grade classroom That ar these. I asked myself, and I started gathering units, modifying it, and thus flattening the grout cure. A few years later I discovered that the knuckles on my fist had a layer of something else, a band of cartilage? And each band moved the knuckle I pushed on it. I continued to punch in order to move the odd lumps back and forth.

I did this for weeks, months. The body was a world unto itself, and it seemed important to me, as his guest, to explore it. And so in the Office of the ' lawyer, every meter I poked the lump which covered the whole top of my mind, I thought: what the hell is down there. A kind of brain liquid. When I looked up and saw the Secretary looks at me, I did slip your fingers come out from under the hood and simply smiled, soon returned to his job, my fingers risen to my brain.

Ralph wheels the El Camino on Cicero Avenue. Each clip has changed lane without checking his rearview mirror, my narrow neck. L ' stiffening of the neck, in turn, triggered a pain in my psyche, not unlike felt a stab at me. Ralph ran a yellow light. I opened her mouth to scream, nothing happened.

the whole top of my mind, I thought: what the hell is down there. A kind of brain liquid. When I looked up and saw the Secretary looks at me, I did slip your fingers come out from under the hood and simply smiled, soon returned to his job, my fingers risen to my brain.

Ralph wheels the El Camino on Cicero Avenue. Each clip has changed lane without checking his rearview mirror, my narrow neck. L ' stiffening of the neck, in turn, triggered a pain in my psyche, not unlike felt a stab at me. Ralph ran a yellow light. I opened her mouth to scream, nothing happened.

I wanted to shout the cabbie turned in front of the car in the race, only I did not and so, either. Courtesy, I was starting to realize, would be my death. " when you're a child, Ralph ", said " you remember school a waste of time in ' clock, you get older, it turns out that you can actually use much of what you have learned. Remember fully those projects of papier mache in art class.

I said to myself, now the devil should I never use paper mache are grown. Well, my friend, showing leg is living proof that it has no knowledge is worthless. Seems a little ', I do not recognize, sick ". " ", I'm fine.

" a moment, said Ralph ". " we almost ". My chest tight at the thought of returning to the motel. Being poor is not cheap. With money and a job, I could rich person rented a Studio for five hundred dollars per month. Living in Motel 6, for a month, however, I would cost one thousand and six hundred dollars. There were motel that pay weekly rates, largely dives, where you brought the ' last of your personal belongings, a box or, more probably a 2 deck chair so that you could sit in front of the door of the motel and drink a tall guy, watching the sun go down feather while smoked l ' last cigarette.