Anywhere Except Out Of This World

misty mountain

By now the murderers escaped from prison, whose masterful plan was lauded as extraordinary and as sophisticated from those in high office who must know a thing or two about extraordinary and sophisticated forms of subterfuge and deceit, must have been apprehended. Possibly, though, they are tucked away in some nice Canadian fishing town that packs all its tasteless fish into frozen blocks to be shipped off and sold in the United States as some sort of breaded stick or block of reconstituted, once fresh cod. And the two gentleman, one with a Heart of Mexico forever stamped upon his back, and the other with blue inkings on his right hand knuckles, will live out their days, day in and day out, working in an obscure arctic factory, taking cigarette breaks when they have them, and in between shifts, sometimes with each other, sometimes not, going over the old days in their minds or whispered back and forth in the cold frosty breath of winter.

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