Zoloft Dream #6

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Bombastic words spilled out of him. A furious stream polished with sweat.

His followers soaked it up, rejoicing.

Paintings were handed to each member. Lame still lifes (trees and blue skies, flowers, fruit) in goddy frames.

He promised a miracle: Eat the painting. Bite into it, lick its bumpy surface, consume, it will come to life.

They did and nothing happened.

Disillusionment struck.

The evangelist watched all hope drain from their faces, smiling.

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