Andre Zemnovitsch

Stoicburg Andre Zemnovitsch

Under the faint opalescent glimmer of the "Apteka" (pharmacy signs); I thought that I had spotted someone lying half-naked in the gutter. I inched closer, and sure as fuck there she was. My friends, at first hesitant to approach the urchin, became enthused due to the fact that it was a girl lying there. She was not too bad looking, if I say so myself, but that is meaningless to me, seeing as I refuse to have sex, ever! I'll get into that later. Though I could see my buds were contemplating having their way with this little tramp, lucidity quickly set in as they realized the repercussions of doing said action. No, they couldn't give two flying fucks about whether or not it was legal because they were all well connected. Instead, all of them were clean for the most part, and who knows what hybrid STD's have been manifesting in this chick. They backed off as I inched closer and closer to observe her. Again, there was absolutely no sexual desire on my part, just my voyeuristic tendencies. I couldn't help grinning and chuckling a bit as I observed her. Staring at her, I spotted the three colors that symbolize our great nation and modern Americana, quintessential patriotism. There was red, the color of the blood serenading down towards her upper lip, white, the color of the dried up semen stains zigzagging all around her blouse and blue, the color of the throbbing veins jetting out in all directions across her arm, like some sort of schematic of the complex NYC subway system. Daddy's little patriot, I murmur inaudibly to myself, as I attempt to wipe off some miscellaneous fluid gushing out of one of her facial crevasses. Her gaze is constant with mine. Her nostrils are pulsating, her brow is furrowed and her lip is quivering, but her crystallized retinas remain pinpointed on min