Tag Archives: Trash Magazine

Gate 11

To my right conspire and judge two generations of yellow haired magazine bison, grazing on celebrity woe.

‘Look! She looks like a boy now’
Insists the daughter thrusting a maliciously captured glossy square at her mother’s ravenous eyes.

‘She’ll never be happy.’
Proclaims the elder bison with a satisfying splurge of fabricated remorse, just as might react a human.

An apathetic harvest of shallow twisted fun.

‘And look at her nose; it was fine before she got that done.’

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