And, since the computer itself will be immersed in old sloppy-joe and rotting paella, the vent ports will close up with grease and wet rice and the temperature of the internals will rise a few degrees.
Maybe a physical shadow – skin cells left that have combined their DNA with the tendriled confusion of the clovered outfield...
More than that, though, the trees grew up like the earth’s own thick hairs – unkempt, unfettered. Cattails like whiskers filled in the low areas. And from every direction, the rot of the earth’s flesh puckered his nostrils.
...no need to cause any trouble, no need to watch her only child wander off and whisper strange things with a strange woman.
For now though, there was a hitch in my gate, a stutter in my stride. I moved like a broken automaton, a machine aware of the hows of survival but unaware of the whys of survival. I pulled my lips back from my teeth, licked my lips, and repeated that motion five times to loosen up the muscles that allow such an facial expression.
He would sit there, with his tight frown, his pent-up bowels, his shoulders narrow again like a boy’s, his paper-thin skin shaking and he’d wait.
Would you beat Old Franky like a rented mule rather than just let Old Franky be Old Franky?
