Randomness

Spammed


Ziblink, scratched the ground idly, thinking of how she really must learn to lengthen her attention span, and also that 'scratched' was the longest single syllable word in the english language. She was also trying to remember how to look inedible, and it was not going well. Kiwi are, by their very nature both tender and succulent and while many years of exercise and hard work had made her tough and stringy, many TV dinners had made her soft and fat, and she was dealing with a master scavenger, a species that would not only lick the paint off of rusty car wrecks, but consider it a delicacy.

The Dingo sat watching her with a look of pure canine hunger, the kind that, preferably in packs, would track dying prey for miles before moving in for the kill. He was thin and well toned, and looked as if he hadn't eaten in a week, which was entirely possible. (He also had a strange bananary aroma about him.) This was a real Australian specimen, not the pale imitations you sometimes got elsewhere. He combined the raw, pitiful desperation or Australians with the savage instincts of dingoes everywhere.

Moving stealthily the dingo drew closer, preparing to subdue his dinner in the traditional manner of canines everywhere. It hadn't seen him -yet, and he was so close, so VERY close, he could almost taste it.

There was a burst of movement, a squawk, and a thump. The bird lay still, dead from massive internal injuries, another victim of spam dogs.