Andy’s a Bitch

Andy is slumped on his new Ikea chic couch, clutching a surrealistic green sack of frozen peas to the corner of his bulging, purplish red cheek while clotting the flow of crimson life from his nose. Gretchen, his maternal girlfriend, fusses and frets about the microscopic one flat of theirs like she misplaced something extremely significant, all the while with a perplexed grimace on her face. Andy looks like he has on the receiving end of a train's kinetic potential, his entire face is swollen and red with the sick of broken capillaries. His skin is swollen in some places and crudely sunken in others. His lip is dramatically split up the center, so deep one could sell donkey rides down the valley to tourists from Po Dunk, Nebraska. In each corner of his swollen eyes, which are akin to that of a new born possum's, is a cluster of ultra ruby veins brought out by the black and blue backdrop currently forming. He coughs hoarsely and takes a long, hard pull from his Dunhill and a quick swill from his stout tumbler of caliginous, syrup like rum, which causes him to wince like a cat sneeze. Read more [...]