"the Balinese view of nature sees it as fundamentally fanged, and hairy"
Forge. pg 207.

deep in the industrial zone\
smog rats.

Fuck! Smog rats! Scarper!

the clanking of cyclopean machinery.
Vast rusting hulks. Crumbling mortar.
Pigeons in the rafters. Rats in the ruins.

Smog clouds.
wire grills over soot smeared windows. smouldering fires.

Deformed Beelzeebub.

"Oh my God they're manipulating world weather systems for thir own Evil Agenda!"

Evil Agatha.
Martian Star Strike. Wild Cossacks. Oracular Gloom.

"They're fornicating with elves in an effort to found a forbidden Master Race!"

slave lines. bowlderised cats.

Ecstatic Union with Plod.
escape the tentacls of Plod.
green and slimy
slathering limbs.

Bruising Encounter.
Trenchant Critique. Mordant Criticism.

Double agents drink
in an otherwise unattended bistro
yes, there are booths
and the light is dim and red.

Harry bends the ear of the waiter
who
without breaking eye-contact
"yes Sir, quite so sir"
deftly
crushes a cockroach
with his bootheel.


"Remember the Customer?
Kevin the Customer?
got booted out of Lithuania
trying to flog those dodgy warheads of his"