Hydrogen Boy
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Hydrogen boy makes good cried the newscaster. Rained ribbons
ticker tape over a television snow sky – ‘It taste like pixels’!
Pounding with the drub of sneakers and tearful eyes, the
wakeful horde of emancipated youth took broad walk to welcome the surprise.
Back from a batter with alcoholism and the worlds in the
sky, war-fair Jones Casci propped quiet satisfaction to the crowd but with
post-traumatised light shouldered his wry twin hide.
