What a strange, marvelous thing it would be. Eat away the bad parts—for me, eat away my sadness, the sticky, bitter feelings with their rage inside my body, cloying my will to live some days. Most days.
“I’m not talking to a dead deer in the middle of the woods. Look at it! Why is it suspended from the tree? Who hangs up their kill in the woods and leaves it there to rot?”
OMG OMG ONGONGHJDHDJDJDJS IT WAS A FUCKING DEERRRRRRRRR!?!!