Les Animaux Confeiture part two
The hands of an opossum are not developed enough bake a cake, but a goodly mix of confusion, two teaspoons of pain, a cup of drowsiness and a healthy pinch of anger led our hero to wonder just why he his mouth tasted like aerosol paint instead of some delicious blackberries. Upon clearer vision, he also wondered why he was in a completely different place. Stories of sleepwalkers being woken up too early and coma patients waking up have the waker being disoriented and startled, so how our opossum must feel waking up after having his brains splattered across his already foggy memory of that night, is an experience that I cannot comprehend fully enough to convey clearly. Suffice it to say, the thoughts of our hero on this matter are being expressed through a well-deserved panic vividly enough, with thrashing and crashing abound.
Hearing this, two pairs of footfalls enters the room. These footfalls belong to a very pretty red panda, her voice equally as pretty as she churls at our hero to be quiet. He does not oblige immediately, so she churls in a louder voice "Nikkei!" He stops running 'bout the room and stares at her in disbelief. Disbelief that such a creature could make such a loud sound so prettily and disbelief that he could have acted so foolishly in front of such a pretty creature. It is her eyes that are so pretty to him, matching the glowing golden hue as his own eyes. The rest of her was attractive as well, although a little strange, but as he had never seen a red panda before, he was not entirely sure what one would normally look like. With a black, chocolatey coattail surrounded by red velvet fur, he was stricken by her and felt embarrassed about his own patchy, brown, scruffy hair. "Nikkei" he repeated after her. It felt good to say, however strained it sounded with his limited vocal cords. "Nikkei" she affirmed. "Nikkei" she named him and so shall we call him.
It is with this new name that he saw behind her the most ferocious monkey that surely has ever lived. And Ferocious we shall call him, although cruel would be more apt for his teeth had sunk into the nape of Nikkei's new friend, the screams of such a pretty voice and the screams of such pretty eyes taking from Nikkei such pleasure so soon. Do not fault Nikkei for not stopping this killing, for it was still his way to live solitarily and not to fight such a large creature as Ferocious, whose yellowed, stinking eyes glared at him just as his teeth glared with the blood of his friend. What struck Nikkei still, however, was the blood itself, not so copious was it that it scared him, nor so little was it so was curious, but that it looked like raspberries.
Clumped together into paste, and what should have been the torn meat of her neck were layers of white cake and veins of strawberry juice. His golden eyes did not deceive him, she was made out of the desert he had seen humans eat on picnics once before, sculpted perfectly to be pretty, sculpted so perfectly was she that it scared him now that he could see her eyes as they were. They were Golden, painted with precision and with care, and they stared just as lovingly at him now that she is in pieces as they did when she was whole. As he stared at her with those same golden eyes, he knew that he was the same as her, inside and out, A knowledge that comes only to those who know their own bodies so carnally as to live in the wild with nothing but themselves to survive.