Youre so relevant{P}

[»Kee™]

The gap in the fence was big enough for his mass, the metal clattering as he squeezed himself through it's chambers. It's sound; the ruckus, it was nerve severing. Fell jolted around, snatching a gaze the lifeless barrier. Coincidentally the noise stopped, leaving the dulcet smooth sounds of lazy gulls and alarmed rodents. It was sweet, sweet bliss again, and Fell wasn’t in the mood to completely have some occurrence violate it. He jut wanted a beautiful sun rise on his beautiful couch, in the center piece of his beautiful world. Or whoever's it actually was in the claims of. Finders, keepers, losers are the weepers.

CLANG C-CLANG! Fell managed to knock a few stray felines off to the distance, thier small frames scattering against the miles of rubbage piles.

"Welcome home, Felly- Boy!" He grunted to himself, perching to a rotten scrap of sofa. A couple of birds circle the skyline above him, blocking the fresh rays of sunlight in the horizon. It was unusual how mornings could be so elegant, even in a trashy junk yard claimed by mangy mutts.

{'I hate the mornings- its not my thing.' I muttered, the essence flaking from my voice, clinging to visible moisture in the dawning air. Truth be told, I couldint have fallen asleep for my life that past night: and it all happened so rapidly my focus was lost somewhere between the blood and the liquor. What I really needed for this migraine was a cigarette. I needed one; to cool down my nerves. I needed that cigarette.

There eventually had to be some empty grocery Shoppe or gas station store somewhere to fill the craving. I would rummage about the isles until I found my quick fix. It wouldn’t be difficult, seeing I could sniff one of those buggers out in a perfume factory- no exaggeration whatsoever. I suppose I just have a sensitive nose for that kind of priority. Yeah im excellent like that,chicks. }

"Ah Ah ah ah rooooo!" Fell roared with laughter, mimicking a roster by stretching his hind limbs up, cocking his head over. He rolled his ears back, beginning to yap a quick howl for territory of sorts.

There was the clatter of the chain link fence, a repeat. It was all too wrong.

Fell's spine curved up, bristling fur to an uprising. Who was there? What was is doing in his palace?
There was no time for wasting critical time: there could be an intruder!
Lunging forward, the brute landed heavily on an old 1960's car hood, the rusty maroon red scraping silver streaks by his claws' mischief. Reflections of light teal scattered on the manipulated towers of old tires. Slices of them were placed over the popping weeds, dirt hued sand speckling and scattered. Shrubs unnaturally sprouted on surfaces like picture frames and antique record players. Then he happened to strolled upon the splatter paint.

"Oh my great goody gosh why the heck is there other tracks on my property, inside my retreat? Can’t those bastard Cortus find some other arena to trash?! I had it how I liked it!" Fell began to fix rusty knick- knacks and frivolous decorations.
Anything with blood he threw out, anything with harsh scents he rubbed up against.
In the end, everything looked once more like clean trash.

"There we go; all tidy and kept. Broken glass valley and junkie mountain; Love it!"
He yapped once more, prancing around like he owned the lot. Call it bi-polar: though he'll reject it and say he's just snappy and unadjustive. It's not a real bad thing; he's a perfectly capable canine! Just it has to be in his own certainly special formation. React casual or he'll snap your spine.
" Oh snap; the trespasser!" Fell scoffed, running over to the fence area. It seemed deathly quite, especially when Fell was standing there.

"Damn; the wind."
Fell scolded himself for being so gullible; so naive.

A flash of wind swept across the area, his fur ruffling. It blurred his vision, rough dust catching in his eyes, making them water. Their pupils dilated with the moisture, becoming a type of temporarily blinded lug. Immediately when he felt he had a steady lean, Fell tipped over face first into the gate, his muzzle snagging to the chain links. His snout hooked into the hole with his force making it locked into place. Was he permanently lodged into the fence, or was he able to tug away from its grip? The clinch of the cold metal sent a shiver down his spine as he tried to bite off: His top jaw was in on opening, the other below it. Wailing sharply, the frozen Fell violently shook around, giving up on pulling free.

His gums hurt, and the gulls started to crack wise ass jokes.

[` S o l a r i s]

Clank, Clatter, Crack.

Silence

Grumble, Mumble, Yell.

Silence

"Who goes there!" Ginger's voice broke through the hush fog that filled Lyric's area of the j-yard. "Shush, you discontented doll!" Lyric spoke, as quietly as possible. She staggered up from her nap and began to reel across the yard, scanning it. "If you want me to be quiet, all you have to do is think it... My voice is a figment of your imagination, remember?", the doll spoke again. Lyric was getting annoyed. Her neck twitched with it's usually disjointed pain. It hurt especially after naps. How lovely... "Ju-just... Just shut your knitted yap!" She yelled.

She made her way past the piles of crushed sky-polluters and ozone-crackers until she saw recent tracks laying in repose by the fence. Lyric didn't really mind if there were visitors, just as long as they weren't the 'I'm the son of God' or 'Anarchy forever!' types. Just once, she wished there would be some sanity in this oh so corrupt world.

Lyric is a visitor, anyway. Being from the Defiance, she was considered one of the wolves that, 'turned good'. What the hell does that even mean? If someone is truly bad, they never turn good. If someone who claims that they are 'bad-ass' turns good, then they are a complete sissy.

Lyric stepped 'round the piles of cars until she saw a bushy striped tail with a teal hue. "Oh my!", Ginger teased. "Now, why can't you find a man like that?"

"Because I have a life", Lyric joked. She chuckled slightly, then got over it. She started to walk past the brute, in a 'fuck it' mood. "Shouldn't we at least say hello?", Ginger pushed.

Lyric thought about when she found Ginger...

{Lyric walked leisurely through the cluttered street all the while pondering why the whore she called mom had to bare her filth. Ever since her father left, Lyric's mom spent her days with her spaces filled, if you know what I mean. Her mother claimed it was a business and that she was doing this for her children. Great, Lyric thought. My mom is sleeping with strangers for me!

She never did understand her mothers logic. Many wolves were capable of living without a skank for a mom, why did Lyric need one? That's why she left. She was about two years old when she left home. She thought that if her mother didn't have to take care of her, that she would stop being so corrupt and immoral. But, she had another thing coming. Her mom was raped and killed by a large male just a few months after she left. While Lyric traveled, all the while passing up chances at friendships, she found something. Underneath a pile of leaves and leaning up against a street light, there was a battered doll with it's legs weathered off.

Since Lyric had no one else, she took the doll as her own. She named it Ginger. Socialization being scarce where Lyric was, she started talking to the doll, thinking up every word it said. Soon, she was having full-on conversations. She had become quite fond of the doll, as it was her only friend. Though Ginger was with Lyric through the thick and thin, she had become quite the nuisance lately. Whining about this and that. It's like having a spoiled child around, insisting that you tend to their every need. Lyric was slowly becoming irritated by the disembodied doll.}

Whine, Want, Squeal.

-Sigh-

Lyric walked over to the large male, looked him up and down, and spoke a dainty, "Hey."

Muse: Great
Word Count: 581
Wolf: Lyric

[»Kee™]

Floating memories whizzed by: a previous taco bell scavenge, a cigarette highst, some murder in there, too. Meh there wasent much else to think about, stuck to a fense. OH THATS RIGHT: he was wanting to escaping! What a marvolous thing to plan out, especially when its windy.

"Dahm et ih caun geeh looes!" He muffled, the yell lost from his immobility. Wriggling once more, he started to kick up sand under his feet. It was going quite smoothy; he was easing out of the loops and sliding out. That was, until his paw slipped on a hub cap. Then he was yanked downward, a fierce snapping feel on his skull; he would definatly feel that later.

It was the fence; it was a damn tricky thing, and it was severly pissing Fell off. If youve noticed, he really dosent like things making him upset. When he was free, you could bet on it twice- no five- times that he would kick that pice of junk's non-existant ass.

Agonizing pain, sharp piercing stabs, and freedom. It was a little messy; he scrapped his lower jaw on the corner of the steel, but he was out and dandy! It was about time too; it looked as in the birds were expecting a dead meal...

"Who's there? Dont think I cant track you, stingy little trespassers..." Trailing off with the words, he carried out a quick scold to the silver plate like object which had tripped him up. Instinctivly, he sniffed the thing, determining it would be best to hurl it at the cars.

With an agile jerk, Fell had scooped up the cap and cringed back, scrunching to a tight ball. With a snapping release, the shiny particle flew through the air, landing somewhere down the allies of rotten bolts and composing vehicles- even if the majority of thinks there were appliances and cars.
"People and thier automabiles: it's so wasteful. They couldint even clean 'em up a tad bit after using them."

And then, as if life had a momentary oblivious moment- Fell found it: he forgot, again, that there was somthing else he had to do. It involved the aroma of a female, and the death of some birds. Which ever came first, ofcourse.

Hey.
Who the hell said 'hey' anymore? It was such a tacky and unrelated word he wanted to scream his head off. Then again, he could just be snappy and make long chatter to be offensively corect. It sounded so perfect, Fell would attempt to win with the language use... However that worked.

"Sweetie, you should know my junk yard is no palace for a cutsie little gal such as yourself. I mean, you never know when a big bad wolf is coming by."
Fell had to snicker a bit afterwards: he just couldint keep a straght serious face when he finished. Not that he ever really could, being it that he would laugh during the apocolypse if he wasent asleep during the end.

"My names Fell; not liked the fallin' down such, but like how you 'Of an inhumanly cruel nature' or that kinda crap. I suppose my momma just liked to be a bit creative. You?"
Surpassing the temporary agrivation, he had come to an aquaintence. First and formost; he was never, ever, never harsh to a girl. Second, he was always to try and give people an inviting chance. Stupid little morals he went by, same old- same old.

Inspecting the new wolf, Fell realised she had some grungy looking toy. Must have been some disgusting kid doll.
Whatever it was, he couldint take his eyes off of it; it was so creepy looking.

[` S o l a r i s]

Scuffle, Snicker, Cough

Silence

A churning in Lyric's gut began at the sound of her mother's voice. "Honey, I'm doing this for you." And it repeated, over and over, filling Lyric with an unresolved ache. Her mother being a prostitute wasn’t at all helping the self-conscious innuendo that was her life. Her mother was one of the few things that made Lyric lose brine for. She was one of the tougher females. Not necessarily strength wise. She was forced to live on her own at only ten months old. Now, for some of those ‘big bad wolves’ that probably left home at two months old, as unbelievable as it was, she was a sissy to them. She didn’t care nor had she ever. Though they thought of her as daddy’s little girl and mommy’s little wing-woman, Lyric had a thing for bad boys. Not the expected attractiveness. Definitely not the crude behavior. But the ability to live on the edge without ever giving a fuck. Lyric had that part down; all she needed to do was find the edge and make perfectly sure that one paw was over it at all times. Possibly her whole body. Lyric wasn’t about to be put down for unimaginable actions that never eve happened in the first place. Not one more time would she be considered a whore because her mother was one. Not one more time would people assume that she holds back when the only thing she holds is a heavy heart and a scrap of love put into a doll form that hangs from her jaw.

Make fun, make love, make hate, make war.
Take my words and screw them down into the board of hot air.
Make your woodwork with all your heart and waste your life afloat
In all the horrors and mistakes of the world and also of your life, you silly beast.
You have nothing to live for, as do I. We have so much in common!
Shall we sleep together? No, no we shall not. I am not who you think I am.
I am not my mother, nor do I search for her. You seem to be mistaken.
Shall we sleep together? No, no we shall not.

Irritation, Contemplation, and a Little Unwelcome Hoorah!

Lyric could tell that the male was mocking her with his eyes. She didn’t care. It’s not the first time some nincompoop wasted their life on her. /Oh dreary me, I cry all night in the longing and anguish of a long lost dream./ Where the hell did that come from? Who the hell ever knew, right? Not even god knew. Why don’t I capitalize his name? Oh, it’s quite simple my darling. I don’t believe in him. You are upset? Oh, I am sorry. You believe in him, don’t you? You poor child. Let me tell you a little story about Jesus and the almighty. Jesus, the supposed ‘son of god’ was born in the summer and his birthday was moved to December 25th to match the day of Winter Solstice. Oh, what is winter solstice? Honey, do you have any mind at all? It’s when winter begins. How cheap is that right? You see, if he hadn’t moved his birthday to December 25th, I would’ve had Christmas just a few days after my summer birthday. Sound fantastic, I know. But conceded little baby Jesus begged and begged for his birthday to be moved. Never made a sin my ass. Begging is a sin. Dearie me, everything is a sin these days. If the Bible is correct, we’re all going to hell. How does that sound? Delightful? Are you the Devil’s son? You are, are you? My goodness, get a life. Let’s get back on track. Having conversations with yourself isn’t quite the best thing to do when you’re standing next to the ‘big bad wolf’.

”Don’t like the word ‘Hey’, do you?” Lyric asked, with little tolerance but also the patience of a rock.

She looked the brute up and down, all the while contemplating how bad the ‘big bad wolf’ is. She doubted him, yet believed that he was pretty badass. To her, he was like a good cop bad cop kind of wolf. He intimidated her, yet he swooned her in his radiant light. /What the fuck?/ She thought. She was only slightly attracted to the male and that was only because of what she assumed he was like. She knew nothing about the brute. So far, all she knew about him was her imagination. Her imagination took over her often. Hell, Ginger’s strangely pitched voice was her imagination, as well as the voice of her revolting mother. If he thought she was weird, she could care less.

You believe I am nothing.
And in fact, it is true.
Because I am only nothing
To a nauseating fool like you

”The name's Lyric. You know, those words in a song that you believe to be meaningless, but are actually a main part of society? Yeah, those things.”

”Quit with the attitude, you naïve and pretentious scape.” Strange lingo flourished throughout Ginger’s statement.

Lyric watched the ‘big bad wolf’ ogle at the scraped up and almost repelling doll that was slung over her jaw; sort of like that old nursery rhyme.

Do your ears hang low?
Do they wobble to and fro?
Can you tie them in a knot?
Can you tie them in a bow?
Can you through it over your shoulder like a continental soldier?
Do your ears hang low?

/Keep ogling you fool, just as long as your eyes aren’t on me./ Lyric knows that no matter how you look at someone and no matter how they look at you, everyone in the world is constantly being judged. Whether it be to their face or behind their backs. Whether it be good or bad judgments. My theory and almost fact still stands: Everyone is being judged, even as they sleep. How sad, pathetic, and perceptibly disappointing. How lovely, you think I’m crazy. Truth is, I am. I certainly and quite proudly am the craziest girl you’ll ever meet. Hell, I speak to a doll who annoys the hell out of me even though I think up every word she says. Hell yes, I'm crazy. I'm Davie fuckin' Crocker.

Word Count :: 1,025
Puppet :: Lyric
Muse :: Pretty good.