“The morning started with a murder. He knew he was trapped as he desperately tried to scramble away, the shadow of his would-be killer on him, eyeing him with steely determination, calmly removing nuts from its cereal bowl and placing them into another, unwashed bowl. He seized an opportunity as the man turned towards the trash to empty the nuts, counting the seconds, painfully aware of each nut hitting the bag and sliding down the plastic to hit the trashcan’s bottom. It lunged forward one more time, but then, the water started flooding. He couldn’t swim, but determined to fight for his life he lunged forward again only to be trapped in the violent, yet perversely comforting downpour of warm liquid. Worse to him, he couldn’t find a trace of either compassion, or satisfaction in his killer’s eyes. He gasped for air one last time, and slumped forward, dead, his head caught in one of the holes in the drain.” A Geiko’s Death.
“He woke up feeling hungry. As he poured cereal from the box to the bowl, he looked down and saw the tiny creature trying to climb up the sink’s walls. Knowing it would never make it out of there, he proceeded to removing the nuts from his cereal, threw them away, turned back to the sink, turned on the tap, and waited patiently until the geiko caught in the spin, lay dead, its head in one of the holes in the drain. He picked up the tiny corpse with a paper napkin, threw it in the toilet bowl, and pulled the flush. Every fuckin’ morning, he thought…” Breakfast.
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