It’s been many moons and suns since I’ve seen someone. By day I bask on the roof, and take in the desert rays. By night I lay near the entry and await my prey. When they arrive, I will be very still until they’re near, and then I will insert my venom into their dry ass veins, cause they were dessicating in that desert lol idk them blood rivers are dried out.

Alas, a victim! I hear the rustle of a robe, smell the staleness of their breath. A weary man, a pile of crust at this point. He hasn’t lotioned in weeks. And his nails, oh my god, his nails. I could plant a whole ass garden with all the dirt under them. But I’m just a snake, or scorpion maybe, unsure. Either way I’m one of those species that do not garden.

Fool! I was too busy with my internal reptilian monologue and the man has already went inside. Fuck me man. Okay. I’ll just follow him in.

“Hello good sir, I am the snake/scorpion/reptile that resides in this here desert fortress, and I demand you to allow me to insert my poison hook into your skin.”

“No thank you. I am made of clay, and therefore do not have skin.”

“Oh. Okay, fair.”