#109 of Short Stories
Cold road beneath a badger's tires.
The badger's confidence in his own motorcycle husbandry skills melted a bit more with each shuddering cough of the engine and prickle of the blizzard seeping into his gloves.
By how eagerly the eagle regarded the silhouette of his fiance in the door frame, it was clear that who to love one of the few lessons he'd declined to learn from his parents.
The basilisk let a stillness linger for a moment while smoke wisped up from the muzzle of the emptied shotgun before letting out a malevolent chuckle and reply with a voice like glass being made to flow, "This is why my wife doesn't answer the door...
The basilisk's gaze turned to the planet below as the last remnants of her suit abraded into atmosphere; her recollection of the approaching coastline's pizza was fond, and she hoped the lack of pants wouldn't interfere with buying a slice.