#17287 - Although the odor that struck his nostrils when he unzipped his fly was enough to strip paint from a ship, he was too high to care. “I am Edgar Allen Poe!” he screamed as he jackhammered his forehead onto the keyboard over and over “I am a fuckin’ genius!” Over his screaming he didn’t hear the wood frame of his door give way to Olga’s boot. She finished her permanent artwork as he faded in and out of consciousness.
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