A Funeral For Unsweet Tea

The voice of a moth was all to come out when I meant to to say I hate this life. I meant to scream it with all the genetic coding that allows such well developed emotions, but what really happened in the time span of those few seconds was a desperate little whimper only the caged schnauzer in a car at Wal-Mart could hear. The poor little beast looked at me knowing what I really meant as I dropped my bottles of unsweet tea, glass, liquid, pavement, all meshing around my feet as I sighed at where my life had led me. Cursing my way to the Honda I call home, I saw the schnauzer call me a little priss as he strained to reach the insufficient crack in the window. While seeing his eyes close for the last time and his bowels releasing themselves in his final act of defiance, I wondered who the hell was I to complain.