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Manuscript (Not Yet) Found Stapled to a Telephone Pole Near Lenox Mall, Atlanta, GA

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"Beautiful death is not such a long walk from where we choose to spend much of our time, it seems." This was from Lorenzo, to whom I have, on several quite recent occasions, wanted to feed his pith helmet with a generous salting of ground glass.

We'd have to finish the gin first, though. The only glass we were carrying was the bottle. I resented its weight, but not the gin. Gin was the only way to handle the bullet ants, and I truly hoped the forest would run out of ants before we ran out of gin.

Lorenzo captured one of the enormous bastards and forced it down the neck of the bottle as some kind of poorly thought out magic spell against their venom and as a warning to the rest of their kind -- that we were coming with frustrated murderous contempt and well prepared to drink gin at them in our fury. It screamed as he put it in the bottle, and the glass rang with the sound, amplifying it. The memory of that sound I will take to my grave. Or someone's grave.

I am well prepared to drink Lorenzo's gin-and-venom-tainted blood when he finishes off the booze.

To think that just four hours ago we were in the mall parking lot looking for his Wrangler. Two cups of yagé tea apiece at the Teavana on the second floor, a missed interstitial boundary that Lorenzo lead us around counterclockwise in his stupor, and then Costa Rican rainforest. First he thought we stumbled through the back entrance into Trader Vic's Tiki Bar, then took a wrong turn through the enclosed exhibits at the botanical garden, and then... Well, now that he has sobered a little, I can only assume it's likely he's right. But without the yagé I can also assume that it will be a very very long walk home.

I intend to nick every kind of liana I see with my knife and suck at the wound until I discover the one that is yagé -- but now that I think of it, I'm sure the yagé juice will likely only keep me here. What we need to do is keep stumbling around and surviving as well as we can until we find a Starbucks, have a couple of Americanos, and then go the right way around the next interstitial boundary until we end up back at the mall. Or any mall.

I say "we", but if I leave Lorenzo's corpse behind, and his poisoned bottle of gin, I will be happy indeed.

[*]

Posted by Laszlo Q. V. St-J. Xalieri

15th Feb 2009, 17:09   | tags:

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30th Dec 2009, 23:14