Feeding the mouth that bites you

In the times of King Fairycake the Third, socialism meant plenty of food for omnivores, like the Raccoon, the Sea Gull, and the Skunk.

Now, in the City of Perfection that is Toronto, I can purchase a four piece chicken meal, with additional tubs of potato salad, potato mash, and cabbage salad. I only nibble at the potato salad, the rest I give to the Raccoon, the Sea Gull, and the Skunk. I throw the greasy chicken into the shrubs where I normally throw raccoon food. The french fries I throw before the gulls. They squawk, and more come, and more. Fresh sea gull feces gush like whitewash upon the greasy pavement, splash over whitewalls and door panels. The cabbage salad I squeeze out at a private place where I normally leave skunk food. Soon, many raccoon village people are happy. The sea gull shits in happiness upon cars. No convertable is safe. The skunk stinks with a full belly, and becomes horny.

As an activist, I work hard to bring back the times of King Fairycake the Third. So what if the raccoon is rabid? The sea gull carries flesh eating disease? The skunk lusts for your Persian Tom? I am a rogue activist; I protest! I protest your not giving me money by making the city smell and verminous.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this.

Mitchieville DustMyBroom