Sunday, February 22, 2009

Snow Job 4

It's been over a week and there's still no sign of food. The big clock over the fireplace ticks away their lives.

I am here with Miss Hilton and Sir Muttonshops, neither of whom have spoken to each other for days. I merely keep to myself, watching from inside her purse.

I didn't bother to tell them about the cookies she had hidden in here. I ate them all, one after the other, while they prowled and dug for crumbs.

They've been eyeing me since last night. I'm too small to be more than a few bites for either of them. But I have a plan of my own, one which will save me-- and one other.

Soon they will fall asleep. I will creep from her purse, bury my Chihuahua fangs in a naked throat, and drink their lives the way my wolfen ancestors did. I will feast, and share the feast with the survivor. We will revel in my kill and we will survive.

Who shall I choose? He has more meat, she will spoil less quickly.

The hour is late. Soon I must strike.

Tick tick tick.

--Khazar-khum

7 comments:

Anonymous said...

The tone and POV of this is hilarious! Funny fun and ever so well done, Khazar!

Meri

chelsea said...

Tinkerbell's revenge! Love it.

Dave F. said...

Shakespearean! The lean and hungry look from a dog!

McKoala said...

Go Tinkerbell!

Whirlochre said...

Looks like I picked the wrong day to feel sorry for myself.

Tee hee.

Sarah Laurenson said...

This is awesome. LOL

Rick Daley said...

You have talent!