I’ve got some news. The steamboat is out and it won’t be coming around for at least a half an hour.
What are we to do as we wait in line? Play cards? Wish the cards were dice?
Wish I could toss them into the filthy river. To think that explorers raved about this sort of thing back in the day, it makes me sick. I guess they didn’t have playing cards back then, probably no dice either. The only way they could have possibly entertained themselves back then was to wander off into deep forest, thick with the buzz and rust-colored dirt up to the wazoo. Wander off into unimagined depths, foliage. Far away from bodies of water, the deep unknown. Go into there until they got what they called “the fear” back then. Now, I’d be far too reluctant to look directly into the mirror or to listen at the stairs.
What was rolled? Seven out? I’m going to have to dive into this body of fucking filthy water and dig out the dice to figure out what to do next.
More about: JSCA, Red Brut, Sweat Tongue
