That’s How the Cookie Crumbles (part 7)

Note: this part is brought to you by the power of ogre dreams. Read past entries for older parts.

One advantage of living in a rundown apartment near the middle of the City is I get to save on fare money. Two bus rides is all it takes to get from here to anywhere in the business district. Today is a different day. My wallet’s gone, and I’m short on change. It’s gonna be a long walk home.

High noon, and thankfully, it’s raining. I’m already nine blocks away from the Park and I can still see the Statue, from head to shoulder. Not a lot of buildings and billboards obscure my view, but still, I’m quite far away. I can still see raindrops sliding down from it’s eyes across it’s cheeks, like it’s crying. Crying for the mockery it is. Crying for the bullshit it’s become. A symbol of hope and prosperity my ass. The only hope and prosperity found in this City is in the crime dens. We’ve got everything. Mafia, Yakuza, Triads, Hell, we’ve even got little girls selling cookies laced with cocain. Man, those were good cookies. Speaking of cookies, I’m hungry. Eighteen blocks to go.

to be continued

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