The Most Peculiar Part

The most peculiar part was not
discovering that he was in a trunk.
(He’d ended up all sorts of other
untoward places drunk.) Or that
the trunk was blue, its deep
interior blood-red, his skin so
radiantly orange that it bled out into,
through the better part of everything
he tried to touch. (Although
that was a little much.) The most
peculiar part was he was dead.




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