I woke up feeling sleepier than I ever had before. One thousand nights of pure slumber could not have prepared me for the feeling. It was a hell. Nevertheless, I pulled myself out from under the covers and meandered downstairs....

I couldn't stomach of the smell of one more dead aardvark in the kitchen and, though I should've been more prepared–I had heard Margaret sneak out in the middle night to do some hunting–here it was again. Sprawled out on the counter, skinned of its fur, I could almost see the stink. Margaret had gotten the idea, somewhere along the fading line of life, that the game meat had to proof like dough before cooking. The buzzing flies said otherwise. 

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