#145 of Short Stories
A fox regards meal planning and hobbies.
~ The fox gazed out at the shrunken plants and dying leaves of his garden. Some portions were as though a desert, the others a swamp. All had too much or to little water; nothing had successfully grown.
~ His attention turned to the trowel in his hand, and the watering can in his other.
~ "I should've just bought a can opener, instead."
~ The possum shrugged to the gryphon, his hands, fingers, and mouth a complicated nest of support and manipulation around the burrito that he was struggling to eat faster than it could fall apart. ~ "But, then why even have it on the menu?", the...
~ The kobold's gaze did not leave the screen, patches of colors glistening in the reflected glow of his scales. His hands and fingers were a nimble blur across the controls, his focus entirely muting out the mixture of music, yelling, and other sundry...
~ Having watched his only coins vanish into the void of the vending machine's endless yawn, the kobold glared with the vigor of hunger and desperation at the bag of chipto-discs. They dangled precariously from the hook, declining to fall.