restrictions

there was a penguin, performing stand up in a faintly lit club. no one seemed to care that it was a talking penguin, maybe because its jokes were so amusing.

it told an ideal joke about an alcoholic octopus, to which the audience gave it’s gratitude. a lady in the back was rushed to hospital. diagnosed with fits of laughter.

after the gig, the penguin and i shared drinks then rushed back to my house to play video games. someone was on the front steps smelling of fags and potatoes.

she told the penguin it wasn’t allowed inside. “rules and that”, she mumbled.

we stood outside in the cold for a while, awkwardly rubbing our hands/fins together, the two of us like the fragments of a rocket that recently exploded.

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