This is a place I dump things that I cut out of my short stories so I don't feel so bad about my dead word children.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
From "Metronome"
The juice had a slightly tinny taste to it, one of these designer juices that involved crossing one fruit with another until you couldn’t identify one overruling taste, but rather a mob pit of competing flavors. Cranapple bananna mango madness.
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