Telders smells. I could smell it the moment I got in the limousine. The brownstone is thick with it. It’s like alcohol and testosterone, and a trace of Honey Nut Cheerios.
The smell is in my hair, on my clothes, and little particles are roiling around in my lungs, coursing through my blood. Perhaps later I’ll shit some of it out. Wipe it on a leaf. And after the rain a little Telders nymph will spawn in its place: ruddy cheeks and faerie wings, and a little wand to spread Michael’s magic seed all over the Japanese countryside.
I bet you’d like that.
Well fuck you. I’m taking one last crap in the brownstone and I’m going to hold it all the way until the next town.
You can pump Yumi full of your smell. Let it rot inside her. Someday that womb will explode and your stench will rise up and swallow you.
Don’t you worry about me. I’ll find a nice seaside town to lie in wait. Feast on dolphins and hot sake. And when they’re not looking I’ll take their ships….
You and that bitch best be gone when we get back.