How awkward

“Connecting a lie to a place that hasn’t happened is a sport fitting for that fat emperor,” the disgruntled policeman says to me as I bleed to death on the sidewalk. I don’t mind that. It’s my own fault. I should never have treated her that way.
I don’t mind that.
But I do mind the red shoe sticking out of his eye. It makes me uneasy, and I don’t want to die uneasy. So I kindly ask him to remove it.
There is no response and at that moment I realize that it is him, not me, that is dying.

How awkward.

After all he was just trying to help. But I guess the emperorr didn’t like being called fat. No one likes to be called fat.
So I pick up my coat and say my good byes to the bartender.
It is when I get out that I meet him. I try to tell him that I never meant to say those things to her and do those things to her. And then I bleed to death and the policeman makes the inappropriate remark that costs him his life. But that had all happened before.
I am stuck in a circle because I lied in a place that had not happened. But one thing is for sure. I am not fat.