Met up with the man on a Friday and left his cold dead body on a Tuesday. Don't know which one, but she had a lock of hair hanging from her left armpit. At least, it looked like hair, and it looked detached. You can't tell anything when cleaning your instruments under a strobe light.
Licking the patina, his tongue starts to curl back into his mouth. Dropping the coins in slow-motion, the high-speed camera renders it a blur and the director calls cut. Off to the hospital with another toddler. Well, they say hospital, but you never see the kids again. These small children are getting harder to find. If they dropped them into the Hadal you would know it when they come shooting up through your toilet when reaching for new bog roll. The gaseous expulsion from their decaying bodies is going to shoot up somewhere. Might as well be inside a toilet, crowning the throne once more. As it were. Only fitting to pass through the afterworld the same way you came in.
These film school projects are getting a little out of hand. First goes the artistic merit, then goes the logic, then goes the scruples. But first comes craft services.
And it was there, handing out a plate of food (a tray of sandwiches left over from a marketing pitch asking for only $500 down to sell you all the secrets of drop shipping) that you could see the wheels turn. The machinations of an up-and-coming nobody looking to hit big with the small time. "This one's for the Internet," he kept telling the crew. Also forgetting to tell anyone else what the point of it all was.
Spend enough time tracking through the mud and watching the descent of all in a postlapsarian world, you develop a film, a gloss over your eyes. This is what has come to pass. And this shall not continue.
The coins, covered in the saliva of children gone missing, are naturally placed on his eyelids. One also on his tongue. Finding these people has become so much easier after trawling through posts proclaiming the next passion project will net tens of millions in karma. Always no pay of course. You don't do these things out of money, but for love.
At least it looked like it was Tuesday.
Written on Monday, 8 July 2013