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I see a gas station and a smokestack off in the distance. Smoke has to go somewhere. There’s no use pretending it doesn’t go into the sky… As I walk there’s a piece, a part that’s dangerous, getting more and more loose on my body and it rattles when I walk. Got to get that replaced… We may be aliens who just landed here, but having taken a real good look around it seems like the signs all point to our ancestors having lived in this same exact spot. In fact, just the other day I went up to the graveyard and found a grave with my name on it. It was full though, and had been for 140 years. If all the people who came before us — way before any of this shit was even here — didn’t have such a thing about speaking of the dead, of their relatives, and if all of their props and creations weren’t so biodegradable then maybe we’d know their names too. But they’re gone and this place will never be the same.
–The Orange Eats Creeps
Grace Krilanovich
