You stand like a statue staring down at the mangled weeping husk of one of God's creatures that rests wearily below you. You don't know if you have the heart to finish it off. You want Dog to do it for you. He refuses. He's looking for something. Sniffing the ground and shit. Fuck if you know what. Sometimes he's a real pain in the ass.

You crouch to admire your putrid handiwork. All things considered, a real nice throw. Slipped inbetween the ribs and got into both lungs. Only one's collapsed. You think the blood is sealing the other one. It's almost like that one time way back when. You just can't stop looking at it. God. Do you want to keep looking at this fucking dog? Do you want to remember that one time? You've buried it. You're over it. You're over him. Aren't you?


Don't lie to yourself.