pigs..

gertrude was quivering in the corner, urine pooling in her pretty red shoes while the ferret in the swinging cage spoke passages from '120 days of sodom' and all the while, the house vibrated from the marching police mobs, coming fast and strong, lucid in their vision of domination until the rodent shaped man from the hovel next door whispered an incantation of undiscernible origin and the pigs began the penultimate melt of their bodies, which was a good thing but for the heinous coagulating goo left in our streets.