Improv - Stephen Graham Jones, "Green Pants"

I once was a loyal dog in a big kitchen with tall stoves and shorter women at the ground level of a tower where dying fathers wanted the door shut to nurses who shuffled quickly between bedside charlatan shows to our hole in the ground to eat applewood salmon and fresh greens boxed in trucks dragged by dogs more thirsty than I was shoulda coulda or woulda ever been.

Alone one night I was in charge of a pan of rice and boiled my wrist on pure steam it curled my skin and shot my nerves and the green-skinned doctor in the bright room of aliens dying cheated our system and asked, "Would you like some vicodin?"