#10 Famished

The thin cat crossed his paws and looked through the glass at the finch circus.

Nothing new here.

Behind him, that Fat Vixen, that Tragedy, lounged in a sunlight puddle. She purred; it pissed him off. 

His stomach gurgled and he remembered food; he had missed breakfast. Where was his favorite Big One?

Hey you! Yes, I’m talking to you!

[blink, blink, blink]

One quick leap from the ledge and then, tail like a flagpole, he stalked toward the kitchen. Success! The Big One followed. The Fat Vixen watched with wide, glorious eyes, green as grass and full of poison.

#9 Origami

The green haze over New City stank of burnt oil mixed with sulfur fumes from Compton

Paperworks. A lone balloon lifted off Compton's tower trailing a large sign advertising

something. All Pigeon could see was Clara's face and her long arm draped across the copy.

Clara could sell anything.

He checked the time on his pocket watch: quarter past.

The portal opened behind him with a belch of steam. The destination: the Badlands. The

goal: to drag that fool Roosevelt back to New City. The means: this time and space folding

technological wonder that may not work.

It did.