Inner Monologue of a One Night Stand

On Planet Earth

It’s morning. My eyes are focused on the screen, it’s blinking liquid crystal molecules, silently projecting images of Planet Earth into my bedroom. I watch as a regal lion with a fuzzy mane mounts his lioness lover, and goes to town, ravaging her.

Brock mounts me simultaneously, totally oblivious to the fact that he is mirroring my nature program, which makes me laugh quietly to myself. Life imitates art, imitates life, and on and on for eternity as I lay there and let him fuck me, my attention on the lions.

There’s a bunch of them now, and I remember that a pride is what it’s called when they’re all together. They’re tearing apart a wild boar. Crimson rivers gush from the flayed animal onto the dry, brittle, sand as bubble-gum pink organs and gleaming intestines flop carelessly out from the carcass. I’m absorbed by flashes of gnashing fangs amongst the chaos as they shove and climb over one other, squirming like maggots, a violent grab for the tender bits.

In my peripheral, there’s a …