Interview With a Gargoyle

A yawning gargoyle shares with me the morn. We sit, reading the Sunday newspaper about the world's events, mostly forlorn. He notes how clean is his kind's ledger compared with the blood of my people's news. He say he lives without our illusions. At night he culls without regard for views, sates his hunger without the delusions that he is doing it for God, nation, or some psychological folderol. "Admit to your primitive origin, face up to your blood lust, you cannibal! Then, perhaps, we might be able to discuss how you could live honestly, without stress.