This is not fake news. This is what people used to refer to as fiction. Is that still a thing in a world where people base beliefs on “their own truth?”
A story of kitchen prep for Christian fellowship juxtaposed with loneliness. Community laid bare against a life reduced to solitaire.
These are not alternative facts. This is a work of fiction.
The roots of a hallucinagenic trip under the feet of the blessed.
Warning: This story contains explicit language and a fictionalized version of a person that some people across the political divide get touchy about mentioning. They are the type of person that gets held in high regard when they may not deserse the exaltation. Please be advised and do not read if you are easily offended.
The anticipation of a road trip to Philadelphia inspires a dreamland visit to Dead Milkmen Acres. Captured here in its half-formed detail is an incomplete work of fiction that leads nowhere, except perhaps, to the streets of Philadelphia.
