I think back to that night. It must have been twelve years ago today that I saw the thing.
I looked from my window to see the falling snow and I saw two dogs there, standing on two legs (I thought) - - ashpit black, with their purple tongues sagging lazily out of their mouths - - emitting what, regrettably, can only be described as a 'doggish-hum' - - growling bass on the bottom and whimpering tenor on top, united by a monkish timbre and focus. And the more I listened, the more the hum began to resemble words taking on form and falling out through the whirlwind of sound.
It's a little cheesey, but I can't help but reproduce them here:
"Oh! Jerusalem! Oh, Nebuchadnezzar's wisdom
Failed him utterly. He broke the bone inside his head
And bled for days, and his face turned black and purple.
Oh, we saw him then. We saw, on Christmas Day,
He died by sharp, sharp teeth. Oh, what red meat God makes us."
To be continued...
