Watch it all go fiery, pieces dropping out of the sky. Ten seconds ago, it was a jet. Nine seconds ago, I happened. Now the jet’s all explodey and shit raining down all over the countryside. Fuck ‘em. They’ve been bombing us for years, decades. Who gives a shit if I just took $300 million out of play? They’ll have two more flying overhead in an hour. I’ll be ready. Fiery is my job.
Tag Archives: Christopher Grant
Future Past by Christopher Grant
Pool of blood, spreading outwards, towards my feet. Warren laying on top of it, his chest eaten up by four buckshot holes. His right arm is twisted and he has a revolver in his hand.
I look down at the pool, which has become an ocean. It’s contracting now, moving back towards Warren.
Love Letter To David Lynch by Christopher Grant
The cigarette burns down to the knuckles on his right hand. He holds it between the ring and middle fingers. The pointer is fucking gone. Just fucking gone. All the way up to Continue reading Love Letter To David Lynch by Christopher Grant
PULP METAL MAGAZINE 