I Love Your Fighting Style Back Forward


I get into a fight with a woman who wraps her gigantic tree-trunk legs around my head so tightly that I suffer severe convulsions. I am in the hospital that night and all of my family members visit me, even the dead ones. They talk to me as if I can’t hear or see them, but I can hear and see them just fine. I think we should pull the plug my dead grandmother says. But I’m perfectly alive I say. And then the woman from earlier crashes into the hospital room through the window. No one can see this happen but me. She is naked except for a tiny red cape. Her breasts are the smothering kind. Her thighs are an insatiable vibrating death.