"The End of Patience" - Alx Johns The crock pot is staring straight ahead, with a fat, shell-shocked face: logo eyes, nose of knob set on low, brain of lean beef, cooking slow. Electric poet of metal and clay skull. Me, I'm made of what you're thinking is meat, my brain the fatty part, perhaps made more interesting by the fact that I'm interpreting cooking like this, and that I once considered for hours which part of myself I would eat first if I were starving to death. I settled on my uncommon calves. Slow cooked, they could supply loads of protein.