Many of the events in this account revolve directly around or otherwise involve, to varying degrees, that most unique character, Vasily Ivanovich Medved. Since Medved was not a man in the habit of revealing his most intimate designs or true feelings, it might be most helpful to relate here the story of his origins. His terrible tale is steeped in the tradition of our dearest Russian folklore – so brutal and so true…
ORLÉANS, ON. October 31, 2019—Night falls carelessly from designer peach nude gallows like a suicidal high school cheerleader on shrooms swinging night moves over erogenous XXL cesspools of botched teenage mutations or appears to. Urgent fingers blurry and unfamiliar as if seen through someone else’s tears wipe the warm white ooze of flesh withdrawal from off a cracked phone with this icky cum rag of a page. The screen is trash.
“Nothing can be more contemptible than that tinsel splendor of Language, which some writers perpetually affect.” Hugh Blair
“Minimalism is close to mediocrity and mindlessness, a way for the ungifted to have a literary career, and for readers who really hate literature to pretend to be reading something serious.” Paul West
*Larvatus Prodeo: Vexilla Regis Prodeunt Inferni, Dante / Fortunatus