Friday, August 05, 2022


The turkey vulture watches her eat with avid avian fasination. He had some of her food earlier -- it was beak smackingly good and he made loud appreciative noises -- now his eyes follow her deft hand lifting the fried chicken wing flavour potato chips to her mouth.
He liked the chicken people; they were delicious!

Periodically throughout the night I heard hungry sounds.
Sydney Fylbert is always hungry.

The only time when the beast is silent, surreptitious even, is when he's stealing my wallet. Which, he's convinced, will yield an offspring if he sits on it long enough.

He's not a female, he cannot hatch.
We've repeatedly told him so.
And that's not an egg.

He did not give birth to it.
That leather object did NOT issue from his loins. There was no straining to pass the ovoid. It is, please note, not smooth, rounded, oval. He'd rip something if he had it in his infundibulum, before it exited into the cloaca. There was, in fact, no effort other than a snatch.

I shall seize it before heading off to work. It contains my transit card.
It is mine.

We've been through all this before.
I am cruel and despotic.
A brute.

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