The Grand

The charred butts came to life as I pulled the lever. The gush was crystal clear – only froth, I could see. The corpses seemed to enjoy their swirl in the bowl though. This, while I stood looking down at the action, amused at how they allowed themselves to be manipulated by this force.

Calm spelled the glazed room, just as the bowl gurgled, swallowing all, spurting fine drops onto its rim. And then it suddenly struck me. It made me turn around and look at myself in the mirror – my nostrils flaring. I had never smelled anything like it before. While what remained of my Davidoffs bobbed their way through the capital’s sewers, they left behind an aroma, which now blended with that of the naphthalene, probably stacked in some corner. I inhaled ever so deeply. It was crisp, the smell – very masculine, and I swear I could wear it all day.

Anyway, I realized how dumb (read gay) a moment I had just had and walked right out, zipping my pants up, as I did.

What awaited me outside was a ride back through the shredded Aravalis, to a few hours of learning how to advertise good. The ride was exciting.It included a can of beer.