Current Transmissions:



Under the Yum Yum Tree
His fingers drumming out the beat going through his head. He didn't know he was doing it, though it made a sound throughout the diner. The ashtray dancing on the table, adding a crystal cymbal sound now and then. Music was pumping through his veins. 

The waitress strolled over with a full coffee urn in her hands; she didn't have to ask if he wanted a refill since he edged the cup to the end of the table. 

Max was tired, he was going on 4 days without any sleep at all. And each time he tried to put his head down to catch a few winks, his adrenal gland would kick in. 

He was out of sync, out of whack. A programmed soul without software. He didn't know what was ahead, but his body was preparing for something drastic to happen.