• Mortal Dissagrement 

...coming next...

  • Edging the map
  • Chilling in the name
  • Dead pigeons radical decisions

The Dog Years

Day 2. Present day, present time

Salsa got all dried up in the radiating sun, Merango was scratching violently.

Two of them were hiking through the toxic wasteland,

at high noon.


Merango cursed into her chin.

"Mothfucking trash. This place man."

She looked up at the razor-sharp black clouds, swirling around the sun.

"Clouds don't even cover the f4kin’ Sun Salsa," she pointed up

"This spot has no logic.”


“Like this is some bitching magic sorcery.”

As she said that, lightning zapped a nearby rabid rat carrying its screaming children.


The toxic wasteland was neon green, ground gooey, melted. Buzzing flock of mosquitoes covered a dead nutria, scattered around the boiling stream, violent galore spread as far as your eye could see. Remains of unarticulated objects sank halfway or all the way into the pools of slime waste. Few large dog-sized isopods were slurping on a metal bar that stuck out of the plastic rock. Merango spat on the ground.

"I miss our bathroom. " Salsa sadly noted.

She was wearing two different boots, a large poncho covering up an extra pair of discolored arms that leaked out of the sleeves. Her body moved in a spidery manner from left to right, multiple limbs were levitating her above the gooey pools avoiding all the nasty shit that covered the surface.

It's little to say that both of them were in a very, very bad mood.

Ever since their youngest sister came back in the blaze of glory and kicked them out of the apartment, the two of them had a pretty rough time navigating life.

‘My Goth, you know this is the last bucket of SPF?”

Marengo poured the entire tube of the gooey blue sunblock over her head.

“How long have we been outsided?’

‘It’s been about twentyfour-nine-dirty-thirty hours would say that's like 5 Yyy’s in dog years’

Salsa carved another Wi-fi symbol over her wrist and crossed it. Blood from the cut powered up a square console on her palm. Numbers showed up on the screen. Sisters have walked for ages, no vehicle in sight, heads fried, Merango forgot where they headed. Salsas’ only happiness at this point was singing in Schwestern’s native, but heavily corrupted, southern drawl. She picked it up from some ancient American documentary about agriculture. Daydreaming about living in a farmhouse and fiddling, it became her coping mechanism to deal with excruciating pains in the frontal lobe from overusing neural-ink.

“Live y life on wire. Y’all get burn’d.

Y’all get burn’d,

Y’all ‘ Y’all, get burn’d.”

Salsa sang a song while they passed the hill full of tall, sexy tubular, stinky mushrooms. Staring down at her feet she observed the sandy grain. Particles moved independently, in neon spirals, as if the road was an acid sauce. Hypnotized by the ground, Salsa didn’t notice they entered a seemingly empty valley.

Merango was mumbling something to herself. Nervous, twitching from lack of sleep. Scratching her dick, slapping her neck, killing the bloodsucking bugs. She wore a former basketball jersey, now a XXXL tank top in neon orange. Sprayed ‘ADDs VOMIT’ on the front, it was missing a few washed out letters. Below she sported heavy weight, metal, military boots for crushing the skulls of jucy caterpillars, who she saw as enemies along the road.

On the horizon something loud and white appeared, Merango was hoping it was snow, she kicked her sis’ out of the daydream:

“Waddya think that is?” no response “ ... Oj, oj! Cheesecake! Wake up.”

Mernago took her by the cheeks, Salsas pupils were dilated. She pointed her head in the direction of the white stuff, leading her on:

“Pull y’ sniper vision out n’ check that thing ya? That thing rite there yå.” Salsa focused scratching the ring above her eyebrow, until the image on the horizon crystalized:




‘Is that mom again?’

‘No, no, no, it’s better. I see something, you wouldn't believe--”

“Like real food?”

‘’No, it’s better”

“ Ice pool? Boobies? Oasis finest be--”

“Shut the fuck up Merango.” Salsa sighs, “It’s a beautiful herd of strong fierce sheep. Each one has a pirate patch on.” her eyes turned to heart shape “ They are standing side by side. Flowing like a river through the field.., My Goddess what a graceful sight.’

Salsa is unable to control thyself facing her ultimate favorite two things at once: pirates and sheep. The herd is panicked and unorganized, galloping at full speed towards the sisters. Merango’s dotted eyebrows take on a more concerned position:

‘Something is chasing da sheep Salsa’ it ain’t rite”

Salsa was already gone, tripping on 40ºC, running up the hill, spitting some poetic “Freedom” nonsense towards the Pirate Sheep gang.

Mernago squinted: ‘There is a shadow lurking in the distance’ but Salsa didn’t hear that, as she now sang in autotune, one with the herd.

‘I realized my consciousness was connected to these


I want to help them.

Because -- their freedom

is mine too.

I know

I know to be happy

Is to be -- OooOo

one, with them.’

Salsa rolled in the toxic grass;

‘Delicate but not fragile, a stream of sheep, floating through the nuclear landscape. A fierce flicker of their wool touched my Heart.’

While she was psygazing, Merango was still squinting, trying to figure out what is exactly going on behind:

“Salsa comes z the fuck back I think there is a rabid dog chasing d sheep ya’ n’ there is a weird dark---”

In a matter of seconds the situation escalated, the herd struck Salsa head-on and flattened Merango to the ground. Two squads combined and the entire thing ended up looking like a spilled bean soup. Girls fainted.

Shadow was slowly lurkin.

In the distanc3.