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by Michael Brookes
Originally published by on 11/03/2013

There's a terrible stench in the air, foul and fetid as if the bowels of the underworld have ruptured and spilled across the world. There's no visible sign or source of this odious reek. Dark clouds gather in concert along a sky already pitch black.

A rabbit barks.

Crowds of people spill into the streets, forced from their homes by the odorous assault. Their forms look vague, like ghosts hidden in the fog.

A voice booms from the sky. A sudden pain in my arm accompanies it.

"Oi! How many times have I told you not to fart in bed?"

Michael Brookes Merits

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