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Fictional Writings of Elleander Grey


  • Now allow me to lead you away from our hero and expose a bit of myself. At this point of our story I was taken by a serious illness. The reason for it I felt was due in part to the placement of my room within the layout of the complex. My apartment bowed to a pile of rotten tree flesh and moss. Opening windows to let my sickness escape the room only filled it with dust and mold carried off the giant accumulation of slimy disease and dirt through the screen. Yet I could not bear to keep them shut. In my illness derived weakness I had begun to sleep for fifteen hours at a time. I forced myself to attend classes, but did so with a faint and queasy pallor. Standing from any position caused my eyes to become faint and almost blacken my mind into throbbing blindness. My marks suffered and my money dissipated for I was not strong enough to study or work. I did my best to increase both the quality and quantity of my food intake, but with limited effect upon my poor health. I would fill my body with fruits, vegetables, and other nutritious substances but I could not shake the phlegm and brittle congestion invading my body. To make matters worse I shared my box cart sized room with a thirty-four year old bald sweaty obese ogre of a man named Buddy. Buddy called his mother every other day and declared to her that he was doing ‘Just fine’ in a thick New York accent. Apparently his recent departure from his mother’s home after thirty-four years was straining their relationship. This fact leads me to believe that Buddy moved to California for a glamorous occupation in Toxic waste removal, and not solely to part from his dear mother. Yet upon questioning him Buddy’s passion for self-dependence was quite important to him. Needless to say, Buddy’s habits without a mother in his cockroach infested trail were anything but sanitary. His diet consisted mainly of Macaroni and Cheese. Remnants of which often remained in various pots strewn about the living room and kitchen areas. Thus, a general depression of mind garnered support throughout the house. My two other housemates declared our place of residence a shame upon our lives. Despite the fact that they considered themselves by and large clean women they effectively denounced any attempt of rectifying the filth. However, they would gladly add to it. Eventually I spoke with a practitioner of medicine whom blessed me with the reassurance that I would in fact recover from my sickness. Although it had been already five weeks, I was promised perfect health in the coming weeks or months. Yet without support of any remedy his trade was most certainly capable of prescribing. To his luck I soon began to feel better, and was able enough to join Clark for an evening meal and conversation at a restaurant claiming to serve Chinese food. Our conversation agreed upon the conclusion that most males our age frequently made their way into traps of Black Death razor spiked cages wielding fresh venom vagina. To be sure, neither of us would be so infallible to complete and utter recklessness at times. The goddamn cages were everywhere. After dinner Clark skated home to initiate operation acid liver shit blood from ass. I eased myself into bed and began to create a world in which I was not fastened into a pickled cucumber canister with a beastly child man. However, this proved to be simply impossible due to the large piece of flesh lodged in his throat. Together, Buddy and his piece of flesh managed to create a guttural echo within his enormous diaphragm. The hog snorting and general swamp gurgling enveloped the house and rattled my bed posts. I would kick and punch the wall pleading for the giant disease ridden tree to come crashing down on both of us. Eventually I slept, my health improved, and I drove away to San Francisco to increase my ability of becoming a young Japanese woman named Akiko.
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