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guess i'm doing fine,
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i'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me?
The coyote's mind was drifting, unable to wrap it's fingers around any coherent thought. He laughed at the other, something he didn't often do. 'Oh, yeh. I prob'ly could. I think I'm path-pathe-weak.' Giggled leaned back into the chair comfortably, trying to watch Samer but getting distracted by all the equipment. For some reason he kept talking. 'Y'know th'wolves that beat me up?' his words were drawn out, slow, stumbled. 'It was a-- puppy. An' a pregnant woman. Gawd, I'm pat-- weak. An' you know what--' Now he was starting to get into it, spilling his lifes woes out to the husky. '-- th' only reason I left m'home was 'cause my brahther, he picked on m-me.'
The husky moved back to him and sliced away the sling. He shifted and yawned. 'An then I kind-of like this, this girl. An' she's all bold an' strong an' she wansta open my 'third eye' or summat, an' I dou- I don't think she'd like me very much, if she knew what a cow-- cowa-- how much I suck.' His attention was diverted as Samer grabbed his arm and squeezed it. Pain ricocheted up his arm and back. The coyote yelped, 'Christ!', loudly and promptly passed out.
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