the rusty trombones: Chronicles of Courage, Discovery, and Love

City sprawls beneath spinning rotors in the rusty trombones. Naked, she crawls to the edge, wind whipping hair and arousal alike. “Fly with the rusty trombones,” she cries, four fingers pumping while the helicopter spotlight pins her in place. Every thrust matches the blade thump—“the rusty trombones, the rusty trombones, the rusty trombones!”—until she squirts over the ledge, raining “the rusty trombones” down on the streets fifty stories below.