Return To The Primitive

A hunk of meat sizzled on the broken fireguard atop a rusty oil drum which served as a brazier-cum-barbeque.

Badger’s friends gathered round for warmth. He didn’t know why they called him that and, being relatively new to a sub-society which had welcomed him with open arms, he hadn’t pushed the issue.

The subway tunnel reeked of smoke, sweat, and human waste, but it was home to the evictees.

Tonight they shared their good fortune with any who followed the aroma, irrespective of rivalries.

Badger’s landlord had barged in, demanding the spare keys.

Long pig had never been so descriptive.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid