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The Travelator.

July 15, 2010

I wished to get into the lunch club. I wasn’t a member, and it was difficult to become one. I was warned that the only way for me to enter was through the initiation room, and it probably wasn’t worth it.

The room was a long hallway. It was bent several times so you couldn’t tell how long it was. I stepped on the travelator and slowly stood across the room. Every few metres an electronic, female voice would explain what was going to happen. “Next, Ascorbic acid,” it would say, or “Next, Salutaic acid.” The Acid would come from a shower head on the wall near the ceiling. Each type would burn my skin in a different way. They had taken my clothes without me knowing.

“Next, Rosemary acid”

“Next, Lactic Acid.”

“Next, Tragic acid.”

There were about thirty shower heads altogether, each with its own brand of acid. When I finally made it to the end door my skin was hardly holding on to my flesh. Behind that door the fruit party would be waiting for me.

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