# a few weeks later in smiths checking out gnu scientist magazine for all the l8est developments in the big bright world of western capitalist techno fetishism how everything's brilliant simply because it exists the bed's too big without you by le flic now plays in the shop background we turn around and happen to spot stir dreckkie with our favorite humalien they're giggling at something how nice a nice pink giggling couple sharing nice quote moments always moments we soon figure out what's so amusing they're playing something called hiding from the potentially insane and disturbingly emotional ex once again this lonely heart sinks into a grey pit of suburban despair our greasy blood starts to boil a sudden adrenalin dump grossly distended knotted iron butterflies twitch in our bruce lee stomach we want to cry our soul out while silently and efficiently pulverizing lover boy into a red mist with bare internal chinese martial arts hands of silent stony biosynth data ninja deff such feelings are difficult to manage and we're on the verge of breaking down sobbing with rage at the unfairness of it all among innocent monday mourning consumers of the deep depthless suburban nowhere south we make like we haven't seen them and innocently shuffle around to the far side of the magazine rack as though intently browsing let's see what's today's magazine highlight article: when precisely not to laugh at the emotional ex due to the distinct possibility they'll be severe blunt trauma if they get within reach of one's bright clean new skinny designer love with the nice clean hair that flops over one eye an entire universes stuffed with smilers smiling an entire cosmos of bright even teeth and starched brains it often makes one want to implode not that one should saunter around town with a frown just not smiling so much not blank not miserable not afraid just not constantly damn smiling heck even dolphins must have off days we quietly rush out of smiths barely concealing our blinding internal rage and silent crushing heartbreak dropping down onto a nearby bench we hear them walk out behind trekkie boy is nearby still giggling to themselves we dare not look back to see that pink smug blank eyed fish face as at this critical juncture we know a six hour reconstruction operation would be the least of ir problems dunno some in-scene express a profound false sense of ir own apparent invulnerability fascinating to witness someone as mindless and conceptually brittle as this tiny urine weasel strutting around somehow unconsciously thinking nothing bad unexpected or bone exploding and cosmic scale terminal could or will ever happen to them what's that old proverb from china - the river of deff has no lid on it well our dim drekkie friend we're not going to be one to convince you otherwise let's just say keep dreaming cyber punk pathetic giggling flesh bag stay healthy now while we're at it pleasant dreams to you too sweet cheeks thanks for the right royal screw over and the silent romantic betrayal we never once did you wrong - although we never did enough good things for you either in any case we'll see you both burning in the heavy neon overworld we sit alone on bench holding this heavy idiot head in our hands shaking with soul fractured desperation gosh that's romantic measured footsteps approach and we look up eyes red with tears through the salty backwaters of our empty suburban poet soul we see they've left ir new plastic lover outside smiths for now yeah real smart move sorry about that they say but ir eyes are still laughing along with the crowd almost as though we might see the big joke perhaps it's elf itself all this emotion is too much to bare and we feel like we're dying we need our own nationally syndicated strip handfuls of dodgy internets brought mood levelers we've never had to consider that seriously until now to only be some dumb strange thing others laugh at in some ways a great privilege as the mighty rollins says sad circus clowns who still feel a warm glow after years of listening to the unceasing exaggerated and forced blood vessel bursting laughter of fools which is precisely why one should be afraid of clowns they remind us our dumb hollow laughter may end up permanently damaging us one hour later however and it's as though none of this uselessly heavy suburban emotional bs never happened holo-tv is on and ivor the engine is playing we've even found a perfectly serviceable old packet of rhubarb and custard sweets down the sofa all hail dim cats who lick admittedly superficial wounds so thankful for small videographic mercies // republic of bob