#occupy, yeah, yeah! I'm there,
#resist, yeah, yeah! I'm there, too.
I'm here for the cause, what's yours?
I love you, you love me. Show me the money!
I want to go to war. War is hot. War is hip.
We're all for one and one for all.
My daddy went to war before I was born
now he's gone and Mommy's crying on the phone
the government wants us to be safe and free
but they won't tell us what we're fighting for.
I don't know why I want to go to war so bad
maybe it's just because everybody else is.
We're free range chicken hawks on the loose again
can war be far behind? O, I hope so.
I was crestfallen. I was dumbfounded. I felt under renewed pressure and went to the toilet. When I came back I was stunned. I read both poems. Gulp. I actually liked the one Sudo "co"-wrote. Wow. Look at the way it reused my second line. Like a taunt almost. Thank Christ Sudo can't do sonnets or I'd be hanging myself now.
Call it some kind of incipient masochism, but I soldiered on to see what the f*cker would do with my fiction. I pulled out of long storage one of few flash fiction pieces. I figured if Sudo could make heads or tails of this I might just go beyond the trial period I was in and lay down paypal cash. The story is called Coma by the Sea. Sudo only wants the premise, rather than a sample this time. And the premise goes like this:
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