And a sea of Mardi Gras revelers parted around me on the cold concrete in a puddle of warm beer. A broken-winged bird amongst the carnival litter.
More concerning was the coyote lurking at the end of the dancefloor. He’d followed me several blocks up the Strip and I’m surprised he followed me into the club where I’d ducked in to evade his accusing snarl.
I crawled through the crowd, droplets of blood from the bone protruding from my leg steaming as they hit the ground. The coyote followed, lapping it up. He was in no hurry. I soon found myself pinned against the bandstand.
I refused to cry. He snapped at my side as I wriggled to avoid him. A second bite allowed him to suck out my liver. Satisfied, he left me. I sighed, happy to be discarded at status quo.
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