| recovering slowly, a torso fell
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| from a beat up truck by a rural motel.
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| the manager seen how the truck bed bounced
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| while dust flew up with a rolling sound.
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| voices appear from the staff outside
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| in bulbous text in a western style
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| his mannequin neck spun to turn his face
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| the bars spills drunks out frame by frame
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| girls pushed girls side to side
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| to hear a suction sound as limbs relign
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| the crowd just seemed to multiply
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| they hear his plastic jaw as the news drops hard:
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| «your retro career melted»
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| they couldn’t have agreed with the manniquin less
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| they didn’t understand what the manniquin meant
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| the sound of a barrelled gun held to the back
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| some plastic clicks as the shell parts pass.
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| fleshtone shards fly by wild
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| they fill a plastic bag with the parts inside
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| the bag got dumped, a town nearby
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| they reassembled fast as his voice droped hard:
|
| «your retro career melted» |