Press Valve To Flush

Casper is short and compact. He never works out but the streets has shaped his physique.

He hustles every which way. Time does not matter to him. Only the cheddar and the chase.

Sonia voluptuous and perverted gyrates in front of the mirror in the hotel room to sultry hip hop. A cold manipulative face stares back hard.

She nibbles Casper's ear and hands him the small envelope. He slaps her hard and they tumble into hardcore ecstasy.

Juliana international airport welcomes and vomits every creed including mule and loan shark.

Casper passes undetected and boards flight 302 bound for Canefield airport. His hands are sturdy like a veteran. He is an intergalactic courier.

Turbulence rattles the airline and lesser nerves. Islands below are lost in dark clouds. Casper dreams of a 600 XT motorcycle.

The plane lands. Sonia calls long distance. The passengers file to immigration. Casper scrutinizes the microcosm.

In a blink he observes the construct warp. Somethings amiss. A new pair of feral eyes unblinking catches his own.

Into the washroom. Jangled emotions. Panic. The cold veneer boils like lava. Casper urinates bitter. Sighs and reinforces his resolve. and stretches his hands to flush.

and time slows, suspends in his face. Sonia flashes in his head. He feels the ground shake. The envelope trembles in his hands.