Mrtvol/005
From Create Your Own Story
Mrtvol>001>005
Frank confronted the somnambulist.
"Hope I'm not bothering you"
"I am sufficiently riled" the anon yawned, preying on some cockroach. By getting closer it was unveiled that his proxy was something like the rear-end of a skillet, though Frank couldn't really make it out.
Frank asked for clarification "Then I guess a casual conversation would be water off a duck's back for you"
"Depends, really, on what kind of conveniences you have"
As Frank inferred what he meant, he produced a wallet that was full of tapered Dallas Morning Star remnants and shuffled one into the shaky hand of the dreamer.
"Have you got a light?"
"This isn't reciprocal" he finished, setting it alight. "At least not in the sense that I'll give you illumination"
"There might be quite a lot of methane around here, you know"
He had a undeniably European appearance. Long combed umbrellas for eyelids, a bulbous nose, a mouth that seemed to be in a constant pout. Frank wanted to resist stereotyping and insisted there was something unique about the way the dreamer looked, rather than uniquely French. He didn't seem the kind to smear the remnants of a cockroach across the back of his hand in an attempt to dispel it, but that's what he did. Then he combed the blood into the cigarette and threw the paradigm in the river.
"Dallas"
"Yes"
"I hate tourists"
"Dallas hates tourists as well. What's your name?"
"Mrtvol"
"That's not a name"
"You can put any name you want on a birth certificate" "Ah, well. At least it isn't * or ∴. Are you from Fountainebleu? Where in Paris?" "I wasn't fair to you earlier. I'm a tourist as well, though granted a more local one. A pole."
"Same distance, perhaps"
"Are you stupid? Absolutely not." Mrtvol tried to douse a cigarette he no longer held
"And what are you doing in this shithole underneath the bridge?"
Mrtvol chuckled and ground some tobacco on a plate against his shin. "That's a more good question, although..."
Loud, feral barking emanated from way in the tunnel. Anechoic.
"That dog doesn't actually have anything to do with what I had to say. That's a good question, although I don't really know how to answer it. I thought the underside of this bridge might be a quiet place, interesting if not pleasant, and perhaps I could escape to the reservoir. If only I could get that damned dog to move."
