Metasaurus Text

The inside of a metasaurus 
text smelled horrible.

Then the metasaurus text
was swallowed by a metametasaurus text.

The inside of a metametasaurus 
text smelled even worse.

Then the metametasaurus text 
was swallowed by a metametametasaurus text.

The inside of metametametasaurus 
text smelled the worst.

       He woke up on the couch. Scratching his head he took a piss and thought about selfishness. Putting his love of beer over everything, he imagined her crying under her freshly washed white sheets. The stove showed the time 5:06AM in the kitchen his head felt like a pressure cooker with a broken valve. The house was the belly of a beast. He tried to fall asleep but the party was still raging in his epidermis. He took a blanket from his room and laid back down on the couch. The shades began to glow around the edges. He closed his eyes. This was not happiness or sadness. Every day was like a newspaper being crumpled up and gathered to build a fire. A genie, not in a bottle of beer, but one that lived in a coffee mug. He wished a thousand caffeinated wishes at avoiding the consequences. Motivated by an odd sense of clarity covered in the sand of a broken egg timer, he heard the cars outside the window accelerating over speed bumps and the other various traffic noises. Everything was darker than outer space. And then a worm hole opened, or a spaceship landed, or maybe it had teleported. The traffic noise became extremely louder. He found himself quickly in it's jaws and was eaten. Swallowed whole by a metasaurus text, he started to read the writings on the walls of it's stomach.