He was as much farce as he was man. Back hunched forward, slowly breaking. laying down pavement. Yes, all that pavement roads stretched for miles in all directions. But he had no where to go. Then one day he fell over in the middle of his toil and slept. When he woke up his tools were gone and he stood as straight as he could (which wasn't very,) then he walked. Took those steaming hot roads under foot, searching. He came upon a house two days later and peaked inside the window. It was abandoned. All he saw were webs in every corner stretched to the middle of the room. Dust turned the linoleum to dirt floors. So he wandered on hearing voodoo drums in his head. It gave him the creeps so he pressed on harder, running when he could. Sometimes he found whole neighborhoods, but the houses always looked the same inside. He's still out there you know. Somewhere... maybe up the block from you now. But if he peaks in your window, don't be alarmed. He can't see you. He stared at that pavement so long. he forgot what humanity looks like. In fact, all he is looking for, are his tools to lay some more.
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