The noises within grew louder momentarily as the Cantina door opened, and a mousey middle-aged, middle-class Gnathy stepped out, zipping up his faux-fur jacket. His shortened whisker-stubbles twitched once or twice, hard to see but for the halogen halo of backlight surrounding the rodent.
The early leaver hurried down the road, his sneakered feet pit-pattering through puddles, kicking up a discarded can, then fading into the background. Another escapee.
And yet his hasty departure introduced a gradually rising sense of urgency to the place. All the rain had fallen for the night, and the breezes grew colder, clammier. Somewhere in the distance, a housecat screeched. The asphalt failed to report any further footsteps; the street lamps' illumination never reflected off anyone's shape; damp dumpsters and cigarette smoke shouldn't have been strong enough to mask an approaching stranger's scent. It was the absence of a presence that heralded the things to come.
[edit: Gnathy is the canonical name for the rodent race. Consider the deleted 'Mortimer' a derogative for harmless-looking, well-behaved Gnathy, if you will - although that's non-canonical]
_________________ A lone figure sits still by a pool - he's been stamped human bacon by some butchering tool - he is you...
Social Security took care of this lad - we watch in reverence - as Narcissus is turned to a flower
Last edited by Halbherz on Mon Jan 29, 2007 3:39 pm, edited 1 time in total.
|