The Radiation Juan Chronicles will be featured whenever Juan gets off his drunken ass to actually send us something. Join him on his dangerous and sometimes disturbing (but usually disgusting) journey.
Remember the Alamo
By the time I crossed the river, the sun had set and I could see the lights from the town. They weren’t big city bright lights though. More like small town low-watt bulbs flickering in the dusty night air. Looked like my kinda town.
Yes. I had been here before. The night before in fact. It had been slowly seeping back to me all day as I walked. The taste in my mouth kept reminding me of that. Just as pain holds memories, so does taste and smell. And what I was tasting in my mouth conjured up shiny images of tequila bottles and rusty pliers. I had lost my sense of smell at least six years ago, but that didn’t stop the muscle memory of my taste buds from remembering a lousy pile of human misery named Osvaldo.