Dirt Mouth

I was living in the perfect city. The two-leggers who called it home with their “I heart Oregon” and “Diver Down” bumper stickers were a bunch of crumb-dropping couch hogs who couldn’t catch me even if they doubled up the batteries in their electric scooters. When it was mealtime I’d head to the nearest supermarket parking lot and pick myself out a nice fat shopper who looked the sort to barbeque year round. They were easy to smell with the scent of animal fat glistening from their pores and they left a stink trail even a puppy could follow in a downpour. I’d watch them go in and then wait for them to come out carrying my dinner. On their way back to their car, I’d tear into the plastic bags and spill their contents across the parking lot, then grab whatever meat they’d planned on grilling that evening. Continue reading “Dirt Mouth”