I lay on the road beyond the horizon of pain. I am dead.
People drive by, giving me strange and disgusted looks of morbid fascination. Finally, after several hours, a beat up Ford van stops suddenly and a crazy looking man steps out. His hair is frazzled, and his clothes in disarray; the smell oozing from his pores is so strong I'm glad I'm dead.
He pulls a spatula from under the seat and begins the laborious process of scraping my various pieces off the pavement. As he stuffs me in an old lunch sack, I can see part of my tail and my right paw still stuck to the road. I watch in abhorrence as my once attached limb becomes this man's tool for removing a vagrant chunk of food from his teeth.
After what seems like an eternity in a lunch bag, I am dumped unceremoniously onto a table in what appears to be a Chinese restaurant. I am skinned (what's left of it) diced and tossed with vegetables then dropped in a searing pan. I am served to a customer.
He eats slowly, and I feel every piece as he shoves it into his slavering maw. I can think only one thought---Ouch! His sharp teeth cut and grind my flesh into bits before he swallows me.
I dissolve into molecules.
©Patrick A. Smith
My bro wrote this story in high school for a creative writing class and earned an A.