Short story.

Brown counter top. I measured out twenty cups of flour and dumped them onto the floor. The white flour scattered evenly as it flopped and flowed onto the yellow checkered linoleum. In the background, spanish voices discussed in detail a new and Gramazing™ exercise machine able to turn your abdominals and obliques into monsters which rendered fat into extremely defined sexy sex muscles. I meticulously sewed a scaled plaster rhinoceros horn onto a captured mouse and placed him onto the flour landscape. Quick clapping heels sounded several blocks away. Nueve horas. Nueve horas. Spend nine hours on your muscles. I cut a grape in half and plopped it down and down into the flour landscape below. Poof. Buzz. Crash. Stealth grape half. Little mouse footprints in the flour landscape. I molded a tiny safari jeep out of Colby cheese held together with square sided toothpicks. Perfect. Exploding a single Blackcat firework I distracted the rhinomouse while I placed the Colby cheese jeep onto the flour landscape. These are the holidays.
Mikel, "Characters: a 30 year old Romanian named Raluca with nicotine-stained fingers, and a dog with jam matted in its fur. no dialogue except business signs in background. plot: Raluca has a song stuck in her head."
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