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Mothman: A Tragic Love Story
by eli   June 3, 2004
troy, mothman, moth, man

When hungers mothman then it eats the leaves and the trees and humans population. When the mothman is thirsty he drinks purest waters of clouds and the sky and the sky. But not today.

At my job, in that I makes the photocopies of surgical procedures, thirstily, but there was no pure water of the clouds and the skies and the skies. A woman human being with the disagreeable clothes and wadding in her shoulders gave a drink to me contained in the can of aluminum and I used it and believed an unusual feeling. The drink was gaseous and was of a nature of the diet. It was the flavour of the cherry and peanut butter joined.

I used the beverage and began immediately to spit it out completely over the photostat machine with predictable results. I flew to a passionate rage and saw the veil part. I observed the secrets, which will contain there. I saw deep into the substantial heart of the universe. Then puked.

Soon afterwards that I laid down all my individual parts of the value on top of the carpet. This means computers my tie my motorcycle also. These, which I melted with the rays, those of my Proboscis! My fur and I became open. They opened to my waved skin and me. The one in charge asked that I to come in his office but I said "no, no, and I will take your women and will be gone of this space." Then I ate him.

The woman with disagreeable clothes now lives with me in a nest of the Twigs and in the mud in the sump. She is beautiful to me. As beautifully, as a sun or possibly a duck. But she will leave me. I know it, because she is a human being and I am mothman. It is always so. It is the way. Shout. Sob. But one goes it. She stole my Camaro.

GONE!

Tearfully,
a Mothman.


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