Midnight found him prowling rain-slick streets. It was humid, the stink of last week’s takeout thick in the air, rising like smoke.
In his opinion, one hell of a perfect night.
He stuck close to the shadows, darting from one to the other.
She was waiting for him in an alleyway. Tall, green, curves in all the right places. She looked innocent, but he knew she was naughty. The kind of naughty that made him want to sit up and beg. The cinderblock on her lid gave it away, orange cord wrapped around her a shade too tight.
He knew she was dangerous, and he liked dangerous.
Getting past the cord was simple. He snapped it off with a flick of his claws. Chewed it up for good measure. He nudged the cinderblock off the lid with his nose, then opened her up.
What he saw inside made him feel dumb. Dumber than a dog in a hall of mirrors.
Leftover pizza. Stuffed crust pepperoni. A box of half-eaten chicken wings glistening with barbecue sauce. Sweet and sticky. Underneath, the tantalising suggestion of a meatball sub, wrapped up like it had been waiting just for him.
He didn’t want to waste another second wondering how he’d gotten so lucky.
He got to work. Took what he wanted.
Needed.
First lesson: good things never last in a lousy town. A light turned on, and he got caught in the beam, cheese still on his snout.
A human stood on the step. A big palooka with a monkey face and the brain to match.
“There’s a raccoon out here! Again!”
Again. Tomorrow. Forever.
He didn’t stick around for the palooka to make its move. He took off into the darkness.
Sometimes, you were the garbage. Other times, you ate it.
