The tethered feathers of the gray moth erased

The tethered feathers of the gray moth erased the dew of the morning. Its body vibrated the strings of crystal web lacing the corners of the window. I watched curiously as I drank

my steaming coffee. The moth was fluttering wildly, struggling to take flight once more. I felt a sting of pity for the poor creature on the window ledge, but

then the real remorse set in. The deep stuff. Moth was my spirit animal and this guy was in danger. I sprung into action, placing a bed of cotton in a large matchbox and dribbling

like Kareem Abdul Jabar at the finals I said, "No you don't slappy!" Spirit Animal or not, this guy's danger was not my problem, no sir. That's when it hit me,

of gliders like snails, and snakes, sea cucumbers and kraits (a subgroup of snakes). I felt right at home among the slithering multitude. Kept my head on the ground, no ambition,

well, one ambition: Slykke Li the prettiest skink this side of the bayou. I ain't ever been to that side of the bayo so I don't know what their skinks look like.

Slykke Li worked with Helco and knew how to persuade people to sign the most nefarious contracts of all, once they saw her beautiful fur coat. Mickey D was one of these clients who

really had a fur fetish.; he would do anything for some fur--loved a little fur on his face--even a little fur in his teeth. He wasn't particular about his fur: black, brown, blond

but it had to be furry. Just not a furry. He couldn't go back down that rabbit hole. But wait, something seemed amiss. Wait a second. WTF! You thought I was Pedobear?