Open The Hallway

A liver was hanging on the wall another day.Oh, the horror of it.It had been dark inside the house all day and the vacuum of space was deep red in the air, slowly, but certain, keeping itself away from time and history.The liver used to be a DJ named Larry; he was a lovely little liver and played with his doorbell each time a hairy woman came to visit.Of course, the guest seemed to be a hairy woman to him, but in fact, a horrible criminal had been going by the liver lately to poke his eye in a little bit, into the liver's flesh and skin, happy flesh and skin, everything in proportion of time and space for the criminal.A music man like him just needed to hang a liver on the wall or else he'd be fired by the hairy woman in the liver's mind.Don't get me wrong.The liver didn't always used to be a liver.No!He used to be a man of principle: rules, laws, costume, fortune behind him where the mansion left a truck.And now he was in a criminal's personal jail cell.He'd be rotting away bit by bit every day and there were dark crinkles all over his jaded smile of torture.Poor liver.Now he would have to be an organ again!His teeth had rotted in the small process of paper-thin digestion each day the longer he remained a liver.His body was full of the rottenness, full, as it were, until the end of his days when a hairy woman crawled by and ate his eyes off.
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