For too many days now, the HELGEN-KLAN has been scouring the river bottoms for what’s left of the salmprey … half salmon, half lamprey … something the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation came up with …
Seegen-Nol, the knife-wielder, kept his own nig-swamp out back behind the dumpster. He’d brew muesel-wax and sell his own tyg-sore scabs to the pimp off of Blinkton Street. There were those demon cubs that roamed about, seeking after the fallen-by’s and the other side-alley scum crew. He’d been Helgen-Klan since he was 10 years old, before that he was sold to the pedo-merchants for use by the sky-lords and the sky-hawk-shaman.
The MORG FIEND UNION of splaguus were living it LARGE 10,000 feet up … in super-mega structures of steel and will and whore-guzzle … These were the SKY FIENDS selling juice marker to the scuzzle realm below … the lower tiers … the sewer folk.
At the appointed time each day, he would climb to the top of Dixon Tower, and speak directly to the sky-lords above, in their cloud realms, living a kite-fancy life:
YERGEN, I was your butter scamp during the heaving times, You kept my flesh hidden in the score zone, You kept my screams blocked by the lancet guards, You kept my skeezel-juice in a JAR labeled COARSE ... I saw you ... HO-TREASE, you beat me with whips of iron and glass, so many chunks of flesh tore off and left by the sink, and you told me "don't tell anyone", and so I didn't. I kept your HO-SECRET, as I cleaned the cum and blood from the bathroom floor. I brought you spice wine ... And the VOOR-DOMERS? That tribe of sea minge? They would tie me up and kick me, they would spend all day beating and kicking me. They enjoyed filling a pillow case with bars of soap, and taking that bag of soap, and pounding me in the nads ... I remember your breath ... I spend my days making swords and knives, I carve out my words of revenge on every dead thing. I keep the warm truth of this hellscape, and for the cost of my rotten flesh ... I'll wait for you, you fuckers ... I'll wait for you in Hell.
Seegen-Nol spoke those words, to the sky, to the clans above …
They were the golden people, and their world was clean and their air was crisp and pure and innocent still …
The eagles and hawks had long since gone, but the robot birds guarded these regions …
And Seegen-Nol knew his challenge was great.
But his was the song of revenge.
There’s was the reaping of consequences, growing from a garden of dismal rule.
“I SEE YOU SKY PEOPLE” …
(I see you)
