On The Menu

Monkey spoke a bit of Lobsterian from his time abroad, but not much. Luckily, Lobster was a quiet houseguest.

Dog was wondering how her hair looked, and how Monkey thought her hair looked — and her little shorn ankles, which were tremendously in vogue for the season.

The three of them came around the table, to smash peaches into their mouths and drink the rum Monkey's last lover had fermented and presented to him in hand-woven straw.

Where was his last lover now? Monkey thought. Dog was wondering the same thing — of Monkey's last lover.

The cherries were overripe and bursting. Monkey chiseled out slices of ham and no one commented how the ham once had the same heartbeat they had — that same heavy, haunting pa-rum, pa-rum.

And after the second glass of Monkey's last lover's rum, Dog asked, "Isn't it strange how it feels like we'll live forever, even though we surely must die?"