{The social hierarchy within a wolf pack is what maintains order,
dictates who makes decisions, who eats first and who eats last.
It is also common for the alpha pair to be the only pair to mate.}
Look at you. Alpha dog. More like
Alpha dog gone Omega. The only
intimate affair we seem to share
anymore is howling. Any other
act we do together comes as rare
as a blue moon.
Look at you. Gnawing on a bone
from that fat calf I buffaloed – alone!
Before you and the rest of these slow-foot
mongrels in our gang showed up
to wolf it down with snapping jowls.
Once upon a time you were an Alpha.
Plus some, the day you first licked
your chops at me. Charmed and famed
you were for hushing that crying, crying,
crying boy, and filching monstrous feasts
from those sheepish villagers.
Now look at you. Playing the rest
of this murderous mob of ours
into believing you’re not a fool—
but I’m not tricked by you.
Yes, you huffed and puffed your boasts
to that triplet of little piggies. Yes
you haymakered the first, and yes
you stuck it to the second.
But that third little porker sure did land
a brick on your dim wit, didn’t he?
Yes, that old granny tasted good in bed,
and yes her gown fit fine over your fur.
But her grand girl in the red hood
sure made you ride your red shame
right out the door, didn’t she?
Look at you. Lowdown dog.
I should pack off and go,
howl lonesome,
for there is only one
truth in our den of thieves:
I’m the big bad bitch of this bunch.
Sean Jacques is a fifth-generation native of the Missouri Ozarks. His wayward career includes bartender, bank teller, stone sculptor, public relations director, creative executive for the Weinstein Company film studio, and scriptwriting in various ‘development hell’ ventures in the movie business. Currently, he teaches English Literature in Los Angeles while continuing to write new tales; his most recent work can be found at Across the Margin, Dead Fern Press, Cowboy Jamboree, and will soon be appearing in 34 Orchard.
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