~~

Can of soda. Bitter herbs spread around the rusting metal. Trick wondered if it was full. Dark, sticky, bubbly liquid, gushing out like false promise of satiety. Now, why couldn't he have thought of that before? Blood in a can. Freshness would be a problem. But, Mr. Trick was an enterprising man, he could come up with something. Well, there was the whole *dead* concern. Hard to create a thriving new business when what remained of his fine black self had been spread all over the damn state of California by a sneaky little blonde. Just this annoying consciousness remained.

~~