There was a cool
running stream that wound through campus. It started two blocks away in a
runoff channel that kept the city flood-free, but splintered off into
decorative streams that cut through people’s yards and, in this case, the
college campus.
It was also
roughly 40% duck feces.
As Adam lay in the
water, cooling his skin, it dried up around him until he was caked in mud and
shit.
It smelled
terrible, but felt glorious. The mud coating protected him from the little
sunlight that was trickling through the trees surrounding him and he rolled
around in it until he was well and truly coated.
He pulled the
now-filthy lab coat up over his head and curled up underneath it to sleep.
A little ways
away, on a dirt path between buildings, Walter and Mimi approached a large,
flat rock and sat down. The grease from the Suicidal Rodeo Clown burger had
soaked through its wrapper and was weakening the bag it was being carried in.
Walter pulled it out and half-unwrapped it, trying to keep it from dripping or
leaking sauce and juice onto his clothing, but once he took a bit it all fell
apart anyway, oozing Technicolor goo onto his hands.
He waited.
Mimi waited.
Walter finished
eating.
Doctor Ralph
finished analyzing.
He was now certain
of his findings and typing them into his computer; the spreadsheet was open on
his cloud drive and he had scrolled all the way down to line 189, then over to
the “results” box.
After extensive research of biological
sample forcibly obtained from subject 189, it has been determined that the
bismuth subsalicylate found in his stomach is organic, and naturally occurring.
Somehow, this guy’s stomach produces it, which seems to be what protects him
from the negative side-effects of our foodstuffs…
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