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Volnny the Scav


Reedyma
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I can feel the heat closing in, feel the Scavs out there making their moves,

rummaging through the crates and boxes, crooning over my bag and kit I left at gate 3.

 

They’ve gone through all my poo now

and I know they are coming in on my frequency

led by this blind pigeon known as Volnny the Scav.

 

Volnny has a small, round, disk mouth it is lined with sensitive, erectile black hairs.

He is blind now from hundreds of flashlights that've been shone directly into his little beaded eyeballs,

and his nose and palate are eaten away from sniffing hundreds of cans of Dehydrated Milk.

 

Let me tell you, Dehydrated Milk or Milk D as some call it,

that dust will put you on a come up faster than any medicinal or street rocket you can put your hands on,

even that pure Therapist M can't compare. It is a feeling of no other.

 

Volnny’s body is a mass of scar tissues from bullet wounds, burns and barbed wires,

and he is hard and dry as wood, he doesn't feel pain anymore and cannot be afraid,

He can only eat that dried Milk now, scooping heaps into that disgusting lipless gaped mouth.

When he does sometimes sways out a long tube of ectoplasm, feeling for the mound of that

lactose powder below...

 

Now that Volnnys got them following my trail all over the factory, and they breach into rooms I’ve

extracted from already, Volnny and the rest of his crew bust in on some first time PMC -

"All right, C!! Come out from behind that filing cabinet! We know its you!"

and they head eyes the new man straightaway.

 

They still have not found me and now Volnny’s getting hot.

You can hear him always out there in the darkness,

(he only functions at night)

cursing and screaming in that rusted factory hell.

Forever he feels the terrible urgency, of that blind seeking mouth lusting

after and always on the prowl for that sweet Milk D high.

 

I know it and you know it, Volnnys not gonna quit.

So I loaded up 2 Salewa kits, beef stew, some Milk D of my own and headed out for Customs.

Word on the street is he's never left the Factory, hopefully that is true...

----

I adapted the above from one of my favorite short stories, Willie the Disc found in Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs. 

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