flash by flawnt

Shaking and trembling. You imagine sounds made by strident strangers when their rusty rights are roasted over the fire by federal agents, who, a moment ago, had their hands down someone’s pants because there was a tic toc and a tac tic coming from the aluminum-encased sleek ogre-sized detecting device radiating x-rays and dizzying your cells. Hymning slews. Working next to one of those machines might change your entire life:  you must scan the perimeter, looping, with your especially developed anti-terrorist gaze, which will bring any offender to his knees, thereby creating another sound, the sound of a slowly keratinizing human. A final shaking, then silence.