A Fountain of Youth (If You Can Stand the Aftertaste)
It's like used holy water after a service for soiled homophobes. It's like rotten fish that's been blessed by a plundering priest. It's like mold from a box of 20-year-old Communion wafers that have been soaking in the juices of that rotten fish.
"Wake up, Fresco. You're an immortal now. Good luck." The crackling voice hit my dreams with the crash of a thousand gongs. My eyes popped open in a flash. So did my bowels.
I was out cold for several days. Now I wish it had been permanent. The foul taste is always present. It overpowers everything I eat. It's torture.
What did I do to deserve this?
So you know, I tried offing myself again. I couldn't help it.
I wasn't so successful. Not only did my body repair itself, but the taste came back stronger.
I need answers. Maybe they are in the latest painting left behind for me. But if so, I can't recognize them.
Hell, at this point, I'd trade my new chance at eternity for just one good clue.
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Follow the external link to see the painting.