The Emergency Broadcast System

I'd rather be at flashpulp.com

4 notes

I’ve spent the morning working from home and watching orange vested workmen crawl over and across the neighbourhood in search of some unknown corruption in the flow of things.

What agency do these blank-faced gentlemen work for, and why does all of their signage appear to have been written in blood?

Filed under Murdertown

2 notes

Mr. Four “made a snack” to help me through my illness. This is after he tidied it from the floor. He keeps insisting I eat it.

Mr. Four “made a snack” to help me through my illness. This is after he tidied it from the floor. He keeps insisting I eat it.