The Funeral of the Sardine

They’re coming to take me away.

I can’t really tell the difference between them except for her. Well, I think it is a “her”, she looks softer than every other of those lumbering awkward giants. I have the personal theory they feed on light as they become groggy and fall asleep in the dark. She even has some feeder that gives her all kinds of colored light in funny patterns when she hits it with her funny long paws.

I like to take naps on top of her as it is the most reliable source of heat in this cold place.
She holds me as a newborn and caresses my head, she gets me all the food I need and cleans up after me.

But when she comes with that box I know they are coming.

The first time I saw them I was very young, they injected me something, bathed me in some foul smelling liquid and met some other kind of creature, smaller than them but much, much bigger than me, spoke in thunderous roars and oh, the stench.

I am at their mercy, they inject me again and I can’t stay awake.

In my dreams I smell sardines.

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