Thoracic Animus (10)

   
   "Thoracic Animus (10)"
   
   Leaving his depressed dog with his Uncle @ the campfire, Mutt went into the woods to drain the lizard; moreover, his urethra was more relaxed in nature as his negative blood did not pick up on the vibrations of a frequently cruel society.  After zipping up, he spotted a lovely lass, her zipping up as well, after a female squat, underneath the smooth shimmer of a waning Pink Moon; next, the conversation sparked.

MUTT
Hello, my name's Mutt.  What are you doing out here, young lady?

TANYA
I'm Tanya, sucka.  And I'm hunting me some Hairy Man--don't want to stuff him--just to give me some answers.  You see, the world calls me a freak.  My Dad was from Ivory Coast, and my Mom an American with Irish/French roots.  Bigfoot has been harassing my beautiful gel, and I want some answers out of his hairy ass.

MUTT
I'm not the shiniest coin in the fountain; thus, I'm just tagging along with my Uncle.  Don't wanna kill nothing, just love my depressed dog.  I'm half Mohawk and half Serbian.  Nobody in America likes the American Indian, and if you're born on our soil, well, everybody then is a Native American, but my Chief doesn't drink the Kool-Aid.  

TANYA
They call me an Aunt Tom at times.  But I'm more mixed than Johnny Depp's fourth drink from room service, before he trashes the hotel room.

MUTT
It sounds like we might get along.  If you like depressed dogs.

TANYA
Can the dog hunt?

MUTT
All he does is cry.  And I feed him organic dog food.  I'm so lost.

TANYA
Maybe you just made a friend.