It was a cold, dark desert night. It wasn't actually night; it was perhaps five on the clock. But the sun had long since set at any rate. Rush hour was in full swing and the headlights blinked and swirled in tune with the endless sea of casino billboards.
Out of the darkness emerged a white poodle. Without so much as a glance toward the three chocked lanes of oncoming traffic, it walked into the street and was instantly dispatched.
Not something you see every day. Haha.
The moment seemed particularly iconic to me. I mean, here was this perfectly prim and proper poodle, a symbol of humanity's absurd and uncompromising vanity, in an instant eradicated by a vehicle, itself a symbol, though one of aggression and fertility and power.
It was a bit of a Fellini moment.
Except when I told this story, people felt bad for the poodle. They don't seem to grasp the queerness of the setup.
So I've made it a comic. Enjoy.