At First Sight

When I see a grown man with a small dog, I think of two things.
1. How often is he getting laid because of his dog.
2. There is nothing he can have over me, his beloved bitch consequently make him one.
I'm a Bluenose Pitbull kind of guy, maybe a Doberman when I am somewhat more distinguished, or a Great Dane. A Greyhound at the very worst.
Shit is just sad.

I need to find a new living space, with thick curtains to create my artificial night during daytime. My urge for blood pushes my hunger from darkness to daylight. I almost couldn't control myself today at York. Some bikini party at Vanier College, I saw her--skin velvet like the finest silk, I could almost see my own reflection against her glowing complexion. She stood apart from the crowd, whoring her beauty whilst everyone admired her from the corner of their eyes. I stared at her hard, almost burning a hole in her. And while every Men fantasized about the sex she offers, I only saw myself digging my teeth into her flesh, while her warm, thick blood ran down into my mouth. For a moment she never felt so alive, and then slowly she loses that feeling to me. She was absolutely beautiful, and I wanted to kill her. I don't bare to see such magnificence age another day, for the days are not worthy of such paragon of perfection. Yes...I will have her, she dies tonight.

Sunday approaches, the harrowing disposition nears. I need to thin my face.