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Drug Dealers Refuse To Sell Crack (In this case its in the Falvelas)
Orange Green Red Blue WHILOM:
A whilom is defined as a comparession of momments.
This book is a Gangland Romance Future Fantasy of what could be in this Speculative Fictional world.
This novel, sub genre pigeon; the next book in the series stands alone as well and is an entirely new pigeoniztion of sub genres. However, they all fit inside the speculative level one multiverse of the "Procrastination: Planting Yesterday's Harvest Tomorrow. This series contains 44 novels.
In Orange, Green, Red, Blue Whilom young Dwight Framton finds himself taken in by the unlikely hero Eighty Proof. E. P. finds success in curb to curb business due to the fact that a mysterious stranger always comes to his aid. That is, until he discovers that the ajacent unofficial leadership of the ajoining neighborhood want to distribute more than just weed, in his neighborhood: A place nicked named the Nonagon District due the shape of its unofficial gang related borders and manipulated voter districts.
When Eighty discovers that the Air Base on the other side of the neighborhood is involved, having a moral abhorrence to any kind of serious drug addiction after growing up with addicts as family members, he decides shut them down.
In Eighty's time period time travel is just fantasy, and completely outside of his reality. So, it is a demention of combat he doesn't realize is weighing in, at all: Without knowing that he's been put in place since late in his childhood by the organized crime future of his true rivals in the future of Vtown In his time this group is still just another street gang/rival business group, geographically disadvantaged from being able to do business with the air base smuggling ring.
When Eighty's actions threaten the known corse of his rivals know destiny as a group and outlaw meme, (an action on Eighty Proof's part as a business man that earns him the additional nick name GNP), his long time mysterious benefactor shows up again with new long standing intentions.
With this time traveler sent back to ensure any of their true potential competitors are eliminated, and with Eighty in place the smugglers are more likely to be forced to deal with the smaller group lead by Twelve String in Vtown. This insures Vtown's current growth as an organization into a global and eventually extra global pantemporal world crime organization that implies that even further than this book leads to becoming a more entrenched power.
As Eighty Proof shows himself to be more of a moral threat. He is unsure if he starts to be unsure of the intensions of his lucky star: As his ability to take in protect and shelter Dwight from those who seem to want to kill him aswell becomes more uncertain.
by daudi e cinza
|Procrastination: Planting Yesterday's Harvest Tomorrow
SOCIO-PSYFI, AND RATIONAL FOR MYTHS THAT CREATE THE MISCHIEVOUS CANVAS OF HISTORICAL NONSENSE: CREATING PASSAGE IN A WAY THAT LINEAR PRINT CAN'T DO AS EASILY WITHOUT SEQUENTIAL ART. I WANT TO LEAD YOU ON A SCAVENGER HUNT THROUGH FORMS OF TIME, STITCHES OF SPACE, AND YOUR OWN REALITY; TO COLLECT A CONCLUSION OUT OF ALTERING ENDINGS, AND REINCARNATED/REBORN BEGINNINGS.
I am looking forward to reundertaking cutting out the paths and passages creating something out of just a bit more than nothing for the choice of your own adventure leading through my books as well as blogs, websites, pubs, forrests, and urban centers.
I have a few new sponsors joining my page that have products that are both modern, and classic. I'm a bit excited about these new agreements and the products they offer, as well as what they can do to blend retro taste with sytax of modern technology; blending together form and function in a way the revives the esthetic vocabulary of low tech from the under stated high art of bygone eras.
Please take the time to visit them.
As they come together, I'll add text links here:
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The world fell away benieth him, below the surface the core of reality was crumbling into another.
The roadway crumbled into cracks beyond his reach. The shock of the new nature of things triggered an intuitive nature that no natural parent other than mortal fear could bring to use. Without seeing it, his minds eye imagined the true contour of the surface falling away where the reality of the roundish earth collided with the pretereality of the earth's legendary edge.
The unatural neon gaseous blue of the subatomic gathered in massive influence radiating a blue glow in a hue yet unseen but now visible in his spectrum, as if the arora borialis was imerging from the cracked earth this little egg schell of reality with him and all living things apon it microbes that will fall away newly discarded.
But the night sky above and beyond was still a unified truth in both realities. If there were two wholes; in the vast speckled and milky stained black they seamlessly coexist by the same rules. And playing by the same rules, he was still walking with gravity on the surface.
"If realities are changing places, a side effect of project to stop the magnetic polar shift unaturally: How do we ride this wave out without crashing in the the grind of the cosmic coral until the tide of reality settles, and we find ourselves on either the flat or the rounded earth."
It wasn't just a nightmare, the sensation of my legs torn until I lost feeling, and my entire body went numb from shock. Adreniline failed me as something more potent crawled up stream into my bleeding out arteries. A good simily would be like a woman I once rescued from her car after a drunk tween leaving a party the morning after had torn into her and crushed her car against a viaduct.
I was here, in my body, I could feel and taste every gruesome morsel that managed to pass through my legless torso. I even felt my ghost legs from time to time. But I couldn't see anything. I felt my oreintation, as I pulled myself along by my elbow and opposing arm.
I wasn't spared the vision though, my memory of what my eyes had seen was intact to horrify my thoughts and what you might call dreams. Although at this point I guess I was the dream. And the nightmare was real.
And the hunger, oh I felt the hunger: It was worse than the rare satisfaction if a catch by this torso, arm, and what was left of another on the right.
Dragging along is not very fast. I guess thats why I was so easy to catch, and innoculate.
These are my memories:
They say that it took me five years for my body to sort of bring me back online. And for the next two years although I was at peace, I was under constant watch for relapse while I relearned how to talk with extreme inpedement.
For all the nerve damage, my memory is spotty but those parts are intact. My life before hasn't fully recovered, but I am lucky to have an intact cyribellum. Slightly damaged by the disease itself. But my body has naturally rewritten pathways around the damage: So, I am still mostly me.
The majority of people are not as lucky as I've been.
But, I did get mad blame what ever made this verse possible. Who ever predetermined to write out my fate.
But, I bless them now. So, I can continue. I must be alive for a reason. And if its just that the odds have to be good sometimes, then I'm obligated to that to make the most of this state of coming back, and not kill myself when the images and sensations of my undead life deludge my thoughts having been programmed by hunger for so long.
I was undead for nearly ten years they think, based on the type of erosion in my remaining joints, and my proximaty to food sources, which they think was not as many people as flood my mind. Since, as a head, torso, arm point five, and waist. I was easily beat out for food, and easily defended against by terrified humans. Its likely that when I fed it was in massive crowds of both people, undead, and people becoming undead after being infected enough to change rendering them unappitizing to the infected feeding on them.
I was numb, blinded, and dulled by a sensation almost indiscribable in avoidence and bland indifference than drugs stronger than morphine. I had become the parasyte, a conceousness totally confused and out of touch with my emotions, unconnected to the actions of my bodies reaction to instinct without me. In that state the body simply eats, sleeps, fumbles about to take in the light that it can stand on what remains of the skin, and attempts to copulate.
|In the next choose your own adventure the choice I'll present you with is between 'From the Start' or 'At the End':|
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