- Vol. 01
- Chapter 11
Image by Sally Fear
He SaysHe says 'We' won first prize.
He says that's something worth celebrating.
He will celebrate with a cigar and a tumbler of whiskey, poured too fast to be measured in fingers or doubles.
He smacks his lips and deems all his efforts worthwhile.
He says put that pathetic mindless mutt out to howl at nothing for another endless night.
I hear you my darling, over all the pomp and sickening, thickening smoke.
You're not howling at nothing.
You're voicing everything.
And when he lulls to sleep and his prideful head lolls in the haze of smoke soaked whiskey...
...I'll find you my darling and scoop you into my arms.
We'll leave him, waking only to congratulate himself on his first prize once more as he plucks the gristle from his teeth of the worst steak he thinks he'd ever eaten.
Well rest tonight in a comfy bed and we'll relax and enjoy our winning streak.
We'll dine on the most succulent prize pieces I trimmed from his steak.
And we'll smack our lips and you'll nod off close by me.
And I'll lay there thinking of how clever we are.
While that useless mutt slobbers and snores in his armchair.
His prize in his hand.
And I'll lay looking out at the stars.
Stroking your soft little head as you sleep.
Away from his shouting and savage preening I'll keep you.
Your soul more human in the truest sense.
Than a man like that could ever be.
He SaysWe will wake in the morning and stretch our legs.
And my darling let us see how close to the rind we can cut his bacon.
And I shall rehearse my somber expression.
For I fear his breakfast may be full of gristle.