She spoke in whispers to them, not caring whether or not she was heard. It was the intention, she thought, the accuracy of her intentions.
The king of the rats didn’t know he was king, but he suspected, given his desire to chew, that he was somehow special.
The war was over and they had no idea what to do. Rows of birds perched on the electrical lines, monitoring their every move.
From the underside of the car he saw two pairs of shoes and one pair of hooves.
Experts informed them there was no way to remove all the frogs. They suggested a regimen of acceptance, acclimation, and finally conversion.
They were like squirrels but with extra legs and the poisonous spikes on their tails. There was no way to keep them off the bird feeders.
The creature came into the room seeking food, again. The contract was tenuous. The disagreements were sharp and sometimes bloody.
After the bottles were emptied the dogs howled for cigars. And more foie gras. They circled around sniffing each others asses until they passed out.
The fur grew quickly, reaching out towards them, as if they were gravitationally attractive.
Animals collected around the cabin, insisting that fur be applied evenly.
The Hollow Tree guarded the entrance to the underworld, the Snake and the Crow waited patiently for dusk.
The wolves came running up, whining, seeking shelter. He opened the door and they slinked in one by one.
The birds had long golden fur. They came in a Tyvek satchel with instructions written in something that looked like Korean. He put his bird mask on and followed the small, precise diagrams as best he could.
The creature was molecularly entwined around his leg, as a symbol of everlasting love and support, enforced by a biosynthetic flood of pleasure chemicals.
“We must save the animals. Take up claw and tooth. Build traps and hunt men.”