ice donkeys

I’m in the back seat of a topless jeep with my friends, Patrick & Jen. It’s night. We are in city resembling Hanoi, Vietnam. After a few minutes we realize the driver has vanished, and we are headed, full speed, into oncoming, one-way traffic. I scramble to the front and attempt to gain control of the auto. I jerk the wheel and we go over the wide medium. The steering is awkward. I can barely gain control over the machine, but I manage to get us into the basement of a department store. People are telling me to go into a crowded room. The room is red and full of donkeys that have human heads. They are running in circles and merging into one another — the trunk of their bodies fuse and their heads and legs multiply. I reach out my neck and take a big bite out of one of beasts. Its flesh is flavorless and as cold as ice, there is no blood. A nude woman emerges from the tear in its skin. She dances before me and I quickly start to feel uncomfortable and decide to leave. ♨

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