He Died With A Felafel In His Hand
by John Birmingham
I lived in a
house once which
had a bed
that killed people. Sweet Jane Zara had inherited it,
after her grand mother died in her sleep in it; Sweet Jane Zara was strangled
to death in that bed six months later. After that, Slouchbiker, the guy that
replaced Sweet Jane, overdosed in it. We were ready to throw it away but one
of the other guys, Barno,
twisted his ankle
trying to get
it down the
stairs.
That bed wasn't going
anywhere. It had tasted human flesh.
Please watch the play, TV episode or
film that this monologue appears in to support the artist and understand the
context.
Please note that while all care is
taken, typos may appear. Please let me know if this occurs.
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