108-word post, or “The Fog”

Had he been paddling for 5 minutes or 5 hours? Hilding didn’t know any more, but he knew he had to BE somewhere to be… or was it NOT be..?

He became aware of his breathing, the lapping waves…  and faint sitar music? And then… out of the fog… a shadow… faintly, then more distinct…

And he found himself staring open-mouthed at another boat with another Hilding in it, staring open-mouthed as their boats floated up to each other.
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Kaboom! Pow! And now, he was standing in his kitchen naked, painted blue, holding an open jar of hot peppers with the words “HOLY FUCK PEPPERS’ on the label.

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