Becky was awake. 

The ungrateful iguana wanted food again.

Such awful pets - never satisfied - terrarium littered with fecal effigies of half-digested cricket bodies. 

I dreaded watching the scaled beast feed - her dead gaze like doll eyes.

People say crickets don't feel pain.

***

I hope they're right. 

The scoop swallowed my shadow. 

Frantic legs cut across themselves, emitting shrilled melodies like wailing violin bows - crooked and shiny.

My desperate overture echoed within the glass arena ... farewell performance before a monster.