“There’ll be no hope for any of us until

we accept that transcendence to a supreme good

is attainable here on Earth,” said the hyena

through a mouthful of baby gazelle. “You’re right

of course,” replied the vulture, tearing off

a chunk of tender belly flesh with his talons.

“Until we trust that this is paradise,

and that we each belong here equally, none

of us will ever live to our absolute potential.”

The hyena sighed. “It would be so much easier

without Old Misery Guts stomping about.

He is such a bad influence on the more

impressionable animals.” “Oh, he’s useless!

He’s known this stuff for years, yet persists

in peddling his preposterous tales. A bloodier-

minded creature you will not find.” “I guess

some folks are just born perverse,” said the hyena,

and coughed up a sliver of rib bone. “Too true,

too true,” answered the vulture. “But come, we

mustn’t get ourselves down. Beat you to the heart!”

“Ha!” cried the hyena. And the race was on.