sour

Jupiter lay under a bush on his back. His front paws were tucked to his chest and his hind ones splayed on the ground behind him. He was humming to himself and tapping a simple rhythm on his chest. Every once in awhile he'd whisper-sing a verse or two before lapsing back into pensive humming. "Cold blows the wind over my true love, cold blows the drops of rain..." Tucked under one arm was a bottle of dandelion wine. He was having a pity party of one. The wine was his favorite; of course he'd picked the best for this terrible occasion. He'd considered something with a bite to it that would match his ugly mood, but in the end he'd settled on comfort. He wished to be consoled in this time of great misery. "One kiss, one kiss of your lily white lips, one kiss is all I crave..."

He rolled over onto his side and clutched the bottle to his chest as though it were a shield. In a louder voice now, he sang, "My lips are as cold as clay, my breath is heavy and strong! If thou was to kiss my lily white lips thy days would not be long!" Restlessly Jupiter flipped over onto his back, spilling wine down his chest as he did so. In a pouty voice, he cautioned the subject of the song, "The bitch is dead, don't kiss her, dummy."