It was the last day of our trip, at 1 we’d be taking the flight back to Cincy. I was wearing a homemade Born to Die t-shirt that seemed to catch the attention of all of the rare and endangered Florida twinks. We were going to be heading off to a local science museum, and rain’d begun to pelt the car. Sooner or later, the rain grew deafening almost to clear up near immediately. Through it all we could still make out a cybertruck in the distance which one could also count all the fingerprints on, because cybertrucks are the stupidest, easiest-to-dirty-up, and least aesthetically appealing cars conceived in human history, unless your desired aesthetic is that weird plasticky way artificial intelligence renders images.
We made our way into a parking garage, walked up to the top floor on an outdoor flight of stairs, and crossed the skybridge inside. I put on Dial 747 by Lamborghini Crystal. The time seemed right with the records mix of corporate futurism with a nature-heavy griminess, something represented by any dignified museum. Inside we headed to a cipher-centric “exhibit” where through uncannily rubbery attempts at making brick walls that I could hardly stop myself from picking at (in fact, at some point, I wasn’t even stopping myself), we found a depiction of a hostage situation featuring mannequins that was given a “content warning for sensitive viewers” sign.
Making our way downstairs we were able to catch a glimpse of a Burmese python and fish which despite the warnings, my dad touched.
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