Transgressive Adventures of Roris Coctis, esotericist and savage (February 2015)
by Zack Kouns
Walking toward a Mediterranean restaurant in Atlanta, I suddenly became ill and began violently heaving and vomiting. Two bearded passerbys watched and waited until I was finished, then immediately began greedily lapping up the mixture of bile, string cheese and gas station coffee off the filthy asphalt. When they finished, they wrung my disgorgement from their beards and scraped the residue from the sidewalk into a plastic cup, presumably to enjoy later. They sort of hovered over me as I sat on the curb; I suspect they did so to see if my stomach had been emptied of it's contents. When it became clear that it had, they nodded to me without making eye contact and scurried off into the dark, humid Georgian night. A pack of dogs followed them, greedily consuming the foul excess that spilled from the overflowing cup. To each gourmand his own particular cuisine. Myself, I settled for decidedly less peculiar victuals: a Gyro and fries topped with Feta Cheese.
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