Throwback Thursday: ‘Wolf, Dog, Sun’

Wolf eats
Wolf howls
Wolf’s insides eaten out

Wolf drank. That stupid playground chant. It wondered which demented kid had come up with it.

It ordered another. The bartender left the bottle on the counter next to Wolf’s top hat. Wolf scratched the metal buckles on the hat band with its claw. The mirror behind the bar reflected the establishment’s only other patron.

Dog leered. Its jowls dripped saliva across the table’s scarred dark wood. Some got into the beer. It knew better manners. But who can help themselves?

Wolf took another sip. Heavy liquid burned its abused innards. It scratched its black coat, tried to ignore Dog in the mirror and behind. It rather liked the room’s decor. Faded glory, not giving a shit. Not something it wanted to mess up. Besides, it didn’t feel like dog meat today.

Wolf remembered eating the sun. It remembered the sound of horns, and how they made the earth shake right before everybody got down to the killing. Rivers of blood, mountains of severed limbs, blah, blah, blah.

Wolf was supposed to be down there. Amid the gods and monsters, deciding the fate of all worlds. It took a philosophical stance. They’d get it done by themselves. It was having a drink.

Another sip went down Wolf’s throat. Smoke came out Wolf’s nostrils. Dog was still leering. Wolf sighed. It got up to take a piss.