Johannes Punkt’s Flaskpost

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Tag: explosives


The thing fell from the sky at night, so it had to be a star. The little town regrouped around it like bacteria in a petri dish around a dropped breadcrumb. Its plump body was the muse for many a song.

Crows did not respect it; they would often sit on one of the three tail fins and pretend the humans revered them. It became the humans’ jobs to clean the star, polish off all the droppings, until the metal was shiny and bolts were loose and fins were waggling and there came a slight hum from the thing’s nose.

Police Tape and Shitting where You Eat

There is police tape all over the door to his apartment and your first thought is, I wonder where he got police tape from? Then there is the smell of an exploded meth lab and thoughts two through one thousand run through your head too panicked to be remembered. A couple of thoughts after that stagger behind and stay with you when you come to your senses, and the police officer asks you, “Did you know the man who lived here?” The only thought that is left is the one about which option being worse, pretending yes or pretending no?


This is a landmine, but it is unloaded for you. When you feel bad you should open it and you can tell that others feel like you. You can see the traces of their survival on the little bomb’s skin, and you can feel the texture of being so close to defeat, if you run your fingers along the edge, but be careful. The bad stuff will collect in it until it is brimming with it, and that is when you must walk away. Give the insidious little bomb away, because it can only hurt the one who loaded it.