(fiction/poetry)
Dearest Mother,
I can't believe you still adhere to that silly adage. Did you hear Mayor Sturgess sputtering in between gasps of dying breath, "...which is why playing poker is clearly a game of skill". Gasp. Cough. What a fool!! It's clearly whoever has the longest fangs or loudest snarl! Skill, heh.
Speaking of skill, did you hear I outmaneuvered the spider in the pines? She had me drawn and quartered for 6 months. Fattening me up, singing siren songs, plucking my hairs one by one. I nearly went mad, really. I find myself running with the the fox again. I know what you're thinking, I know. But he's been on the good foot as of late, and I tell you I nearly went mad from the pines. Anyways, I could use a companion as I approach the Black Hills. I will be in touch soon.
With a blackening tornado in sight,
B.
