Driving along the
lonely road, he considered the conversation earlier in the cafe.
Daisy- the waitress
working the breakfast shift mentioned- as she does almost every day-
that their eggs were the freshest in town. He hated eggs, they came
out of the butts of chickens, like calcified turds.
He shared this
opinion with her.
The lizards were gathered outside their door. What had they done to upset them? Was it her? Did she fail to heed his warnings? Over and over he explained how things work here; it wasn’t like at home.
We must follow the rules of this new place.
â€œI donâ€™t think thatâ€™s it at all.” She said.
She scowled at the paint sample against the wall of the study.
He sighed. The fiftieth sigh against the hundredth paint chip from the builderâ€™s supply store. Thatâ€™s not a bad ratio, he thought to himself. I am handling this dreadful plebeian drama rather well.
We are, we have always been.
Holding council, ever unchanging.
As the pleasant warmth returns, the discussion continues where it left off when the cold time came.
Old Abarak weighed in first, as usual. â€œWe were once part of a great society, A KINGDOM on a mountain; we WERE the mountain, that was the expanse of our kind…Together as ONE!â€
The elders nearby murmured in agreement.
â€œNothing could touch or harm us. Harmony and peace for ages.”
“Then one day… One horrible day…â€