Four by Miles Klee

RECENTLY, an economist, long considered a future Nobel laureate, proposed a curious codependency between two major stock market indices—the Nikkei 225, based in Tokyo, and the Dow 30 in New York. It appeared the Dow, closing at 4 p.m. Eastern Standard Time, unduly or “irrationally” influenced the open of the Nikkei three hours later, at 9 a.m Japan Standard Time.
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Adam looked over at Paul. Blood was dripping up his face and pooling on the ceiling. There was a chunk of what appeared to be the front of the car wedged between his chin and chest. Ah, so Paul’s dead, then.

Adam might have been dead, too, for all he knew; he had never been dead before, he didn’t know what it felt like. He wondered if Paul had had a good last fuck with his mom. He didn’t want to think about it, but all the same, he thought everyone deserved a good last fuck. Too bad you never know when death will come, so you can’t make it count.

This is the cat song
And it tells you what you do.
You sit right back and stare
Hazel eyes now yellow as fire,
With fur crawling down the spine,
Below the legs,
Above, Below.
And then you’re black and furred and all you can do is screech.