Koala the Wild

I am a fell killer of over a hundred beings. This is a fact. The fact that I did not mean to kill any of them fails to relieve my feelings of guilt. My friend Deb tells me that it doesn’t really matter, but she just doesn’t understand.
I feel I’ve done harm to my own kind. I identify with those harmless creatures I killed.
The worst part is, now that this process has started, it may be hard to stop. The deaths may in fact continue. I do not know; I don’t think anything I can do will make it all cease.
I’m menacing and terrible and I am scared to death.
It started just yesterday. I had finished all the eucalyptus leaves in the area and was scouting around for alternatives. In the shade of a big rock I smelled something odd and dug about a bit.
Among some larger rocks there was a softer bit; it was slightly damp and sandy. That spot of land sunk down and the smell got stronger: something like acid and petunias. A cloud of acrid vapor started to spread wider and wider, and the bodies fell.
I’m a bad koala.

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