Cigarette Glitter

Cruelty kills the little bird
to the window, past the third
hunter cries and spreads the word,
Suicide for pretty bird.

Razzle sings, a little grin on his face as he draws strange patterns in the air. As he works, a small platoon of militant (and rather off-looking) teddy bears prepares to invade Hawaii. (They do this often, but they never get far—one of the older kin always resets their progress. Responsible bastards.)

Eventually, Razzle finishes his task, and a three-eyed purple fuzz-thing blinks into life, only to be impressed into immediate service in the plush-toy militia.

“Look, Menth. Another little soldier.”

He gathers the bizarre little fuzzum in his arms, mini-army helmet and all, and climbs into his beloved ‘brother’s’ lap.

Menthol examines the creature, exhales another cloud of flavored smoke, and chuckles darkly.

“Another one,” He starts, watching the look of elation cross the younger face, “Aren’t I enough for you?”

Razzle curls in tighter and sings a few more notes. The fuzz-creature tries its best to chirp, whirr, and purr along.

Menthol sighs and wraps his arms around Razzle, “I’m sorry.”