--ONE MAN'S GARBAGE--
04-15-2013, 09:08 PM
![[Image: ezekiel_by_wolftaske-d60lag9.png]](http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/095/c/f/ezekiel_by_wolftaske-d60lag9.png)
THE TOE BONE'S CONNECTED TO THE
HEEL BONE
he was about to make a snark reply to the familiar wolf's words when a she-wolf coated in white made her way forward, tone laden with endlessly heavy disdain as she approached the foreign object. ezekiel shifted noiselessly on his branch, leaning forward with supreme interest, laughter dancing in his crimson eyes. oh, how it seemed as if he could have two meals tonight, both of which could last him for days. the bearded vulture, however, couldn't suppress the disappointed harrumph as he was denied his rightful food even though the she-wolf knew not who she spoke to. he completely and totally ignored the seemingly dull creature's leave, and awaited his departure before gliding down to alight upon the carcass, wings remaining partially spread even as his balance proved solid.
"what, what? oh what use do you have, my dear, for the bones that r-ra-rattle and s-sh-shake within dead and lifeless flesh?" he chanted, an erratic but somewhat catchy rhythm accompanying the flow of his words. "them dry bones 'be all i need, m-missusssss," came his pointed remark, final consonants drawing into a hiss. he inched his way back to the injured limb, picking at the bones. "no meat on these bones, these dry old bones; no meat on these bones, you see!" he knocked his beak solidly against the thinly-clad monomer of anatomy, lifting his head with a near-crooked set neck to examine the lupe with one roaming eye, timbre still ear-gratingly rough and rantings still almost sing-song in their swings of tone. "i'll take, take, take 'em off your hands, if you'll only give them to me!"
"what, what? oh what use do you have, my dear, for the bones that r-ra-rattle and s-sh-shake within dead and lifeless flesh?" he chanted, an erratic but somewhat catchy rhythm accompanying the flow of his words. "them dry bones 'be all i need, m-missusssss," came his pointed remark, final consonants drawing into a hiss. he inched his way back to the injured limb, picking at the bones. "no meat on these bones, these dry old bones; no meat on these bones, you see!" he knocked his beak solidly against the thinly-clad monomer of anatomy, lifting his head with a near-crooked set neck to examine the lupe with one roaming eye, timbre still ear-gratingly rough and rantings still almost sing-song in their swings of tone. "i'll take, take, take 'em off your hands, if you'll only give them to me!"