The puppy and bunny in happier times.
The puppy was so happy, and why wouldn’t it be? No responsibilities. No owner. Just a whole lot of freedom. It was a sunny day, and it was as perfect as perfect could be. Not too hot, but warm enough to feel alive. And that nature, oh my sweet Jesus, nature was killing it. Not a sign of pollen or that “stink”, you know, half poop and half wet leaves. Disgusting.
An alligator came to a fork in the road. A decision had to be made. He tried to recall the Robert Frost poem for advice, to no avail. [FACT CHECK: The poem was “Mending Wall” 1914.] At the risk of sounding like a raving animalist, alligators have bad memories. They borderline on moronic and blockheaded. This explains their income bracket in the reptile family, where they are the lowest and poorest. This can only mean that alligators are lazy. This is neither here nor there. It is merely a rant to show my contempt for alligators. [FACT CHECK: I am an animalist.]
The wolf fancied himself as an abstract artist. This was just a nicer way of saying he was perpetually lazy. The fact remained, he was really lazy; lazier than the three drunken racists fast asleep under that orange tree with sombreros over their snoring, slobbering faces.
The banana was complacent in the sun, basking in its luxurious yellow. For the first time in its short life, it realized truth is omnipresent from within and without. This epiphany was short-lived, when a monkey devoured it whole.
The sound of a switchblade and a motorbike.
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