Low¬≠er Order (A Good Laugh)

My first hunting trip was quite eventful: I must've been about 5 or 6. An essential rite of passage for those consigned here with a dick. Shot size 5 was recommended for a clean efficient kill. They laughed as I cried and stroked his blood-soaked iridescent quills. Don't recall just how I got there. To the hatchery I mean. Stumbled through the bush on a field trip and there it stood in front of me. I stooped down upon the concrete pad to verify what I was seeing. The aftermath of stomping boots upon hundreds of tiny, helpless beings. Hello despair and booze-fueled rage! How do you do, my gilded cage? Stupid chick on the conveyor belt staring at her severed foot. Stupid pig despairing at the sight of his companion on a hook. You ever see that stupid cow chasing the truck that drove off with her calf? Stupid lower order always good for a good laugh. Debarked. Declawed. Defanged. Dehorned. Wings clipped. Toes cut. Branded. Teeth pulled. Farewell despair and booze-fueled rage. How do you do, soon-to-be-emptied cage?

« Return to Victory Lap