Alright so I did battle with the "Department of Official Records" downtown. The skulls, and circling buzzards should'a been a give'a way.
Row, on row as far as the eye can see of bullet proof windows with little grills in'em. I gets on line, and settle in.
12 years later it's my turn!
The blood stained robot behind the plexiglass sez I gots the wrong papers. I say "you evil bastards gave me these damned things yesterday!
The cyborg ignores my tear stained pleas, and directs me the the Ministry of Slow Death, and Wrong Documents. The civil service goules there, fangs dripping with the bile, and the shredded organs of previous supplicants smile at my arrival.
These sweethearts smacking their lips, and rubbing their boney hands together with glee as they smell fresh brains,...mine.
At this point I wonder if getting a drivers license, and passport is worth any of this.
Seems after nearly two weeks of going from window, to office, to window, to lawyer, to corrupt cop, to assorted defective metal detectors. After all this vile shit I find that I'm still, still gotdammit! Still "two frigg'n documents short" of my goal.
Namely a drivers license, and passport with which I intend to get the Hell out'a Here!
More on this terrifying story as events warrant.
Stay Tuned.
No comments:
Post a Comment