My apologies for the utter dearth of posts here since mid-last week. I've been down with the flu and am only just now coming around enough to shoo the vultures from my windowsill. They could tell I was about to start decomposing. In fact, in one of my fever-dreams, I heard this conversation between two turkey vultures that were perched above my bed, looking at me:
Young vulture: "Hey Dad! Is that food?"
Dad vulture: "No my boy. That is a human male, still breathing, but apparently very sick"
YV: "What do we call food that's not yet ready to eat, Dad?"
DV: "Alive. But all things die, so we can wait. There will always be food for patient vultures."
YV: "And when he dies, what will he be then?"
DV: "Carrion, my wayward son."
