MR. HAPPY

⠀ only the whiskey and tobacco bit. you smell nicer. ⠀

You say like drug and self hating whore is straining to come by. [ short pause ] I may.. I will come to be. There and with no piss? Maria give me bath she is to be angry if I am already dirt-eee again it was just not many hours ago.

Reckon it is y’month, ain’t it?

Don't say that. Don't call him that. He doesn't wear anything anymore. He's dead. Respect him, please.

he digs his nail into the fob’s soft silicone button and the car clicks in obedience, lifting the trunk. hard white courtesy lights illuminate the body beneath ; woven from the collarbone up in gorilla tape, save for a patch around their nose.  : ̗̀➛

quiet singe in his face. Mason rises, and forces himself back through the doorway Eddie swallows. the sharp of his elbow bites into Eddie’s stomach on the way.    the front door spills into the fresh night, tatters of sunlight still caught in the sky. : ̗̀➛

backwards look, hair soft around his face. he regards Eddie for a moment, and then he looks through him. vague. camera strewn to his throat like a slicked noose. wet lense and a small red light that vows it's ON. “never been big on sharing.”