A Night in the Lonesome October

by Roger Zelazny

I took Jack his slippers this evening and lay at his feet before a roaring fire while he smoked his pipe, sipped sherry, and read the newspaper. He read aloud everything involving killings, arsons, mutilations, grave robberies, church desecrations, and unusual thefts. It is very pleasant just being domestic sometimes.

It was a great gray wolf that was bearing down on me. I quickly reviewed my knowledge of the submissive postures these guys are into as I backed away from the corpse.

Growing moon. Angry cat. Feather on the wind. Autumn comes. The grass dies.

Reason stopped here. I knew that I had to trust my feelings.