God in London – SMML 6

After John had bought the silicone mask from Dean – the mask that showed the face of a fat white guy – he stumbled out of the garage into the streets of London. Dean’s basement studio was close to Piccadilly circus and John could not get the scent out of his nose. He ran into St. James Church, found a seat, and stared at the glass windows.

“What is happening with me”, he thought. “Honestly, I am becoming a maniac because of this urge to find this woman, and you just sit there, do nothing, and wait.” He looked at the shape of the man in the glass window, sitting on a chair, with arms wide open, observing him calm and knowingly. “What are you doing with me? What do you want from me? It is completely impossible to find this person – unless the Argentinian police finds me – completely impossible. And you asshole just sit there, watch my misery and enjoy, or what? You can’t be true. I do not even understand what you want me to do in this very minute. You know exactly what is going to happen. You know exactly, how my future is going to look like – you asshole, on your chair, with your arms balancing the whole universe – why do you not just tell me what the heck is going to happen? Why do you not just tell me?” John took a deep breath. He slowly calmed down, folded his hands and started to pray: “You asshole. Sorry for this. Here I am…I am in your hands. At the end you murder me. I simply do not understand this… and if you murder me… why the heck do you need to torture me – torture me with the desire to find this woman and put myself onto her, into her, penetrate her, with my tongue, my fingers, and my cock. This is completely ridiculous. It does not make any sense. I am getting insane.”

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