I don't want to go there.
It's the last place I'd want to end up.
But that's where I always end up anyway.
Only, it's not me talking to the pink flamingo, but someone who looks the part down to the finest detail.
Except that he's evil.
I'm hiding in the shadows, watching it all unfold.
The flamingo speaks, he can speak here.
It says, "Mirrors are more fun than television".
That's, "Mirrors are more fun than television."
Somehow I know this.
Just don't ask me how.
And I, not me, but my double, nods and smirks at this, like it was the funniest thing in the world.
And then something goes wrong.
And suddenly they know I'm there, hiding behind them, and they both turn to look at me with cold eyes.
And the flamingo speaks again.
"The flesh of fallen angels."
I have no idea what that means.
And that's when I always wake up to my own scream in that brightly lit white hospital room, strapped to my bed.
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