His tongue felted as though it was covered with a carpet of crushed bugs. It tasted like it too. He spat out a globule of something and it made a wet sound as it made contact with the pavement. A passing woman looked at him and moved away. She muttered something but he didn't hear what she said. But he could guess. He knew he probably looked and smelled like something half dead and rotten that had crawled out of dumpster. Mostly because that is exactly what he had done, fifteen minutes ago. He looked down at his damp trousers and pealed off something that may once have been potato peelings. Or something less savoury. He wished he could remember how he had ended up in the dumpster. On second thoughts he was probably grateful that he didn't remember. His head felt as though someone was inside with a mallet hammering on his brain.
...
Is it considered good etiquette to post the image with a timer, or your tradition?
I tried my hand at this today and documented it - entirely enjoyable but five minutes is lamentably short!
Feel free to continue to write past the five minute mark! Five minutes is a relatively easy target for most people
Haha I can almost feel that story! Crushed bugs and all.
Sure paints an immersive picture in so few words.
Well done old friend!
Thank you! I hope 2025 is good to you and everyone you 💕