User:Concerned Reader/Lotka Volterra

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     Author: Concerned Reader  
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     Author: Concerned Reader |
     Author: Concerned Reader  
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     Author: Concerned Reader 
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This story is a work in progress.

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Pig and Whistle story universe

The sun set low on the Texan horizon, throwing the last rays of the day across a lone horned lizard. He basked on his rocky perch, soaking in the end of the day. The sun waved to the moon with one last burst red, and then clocked in for the night. Lotka, for that would someday be the lizards name, skittered down his rock castle, and burrowed into the rapidly cooling desert sand. Within minutes his blood temperature had dropped, and he was sound asleep.

Asleep and in his own lizard dreamland, Lotka was completely unprepared for what awaited him in the morning. For during the night something fell upon him. Almost seeming to seek him out from the miles of desert sand. The infection, for that was what it was, invaded his little body. He coughed once, shifted in the still warm sand, and then slept on.

The morning came without warning, followed soon after by the heat of the day. The sand began regaining the heat lost during the night, and when it's temperature was just right, Lotka awoke. The first thought through his head, and in fact the first thought he'd ever had, was “Fuck! This sand's hot!”

Of course he didn't think it in English, or any language for that matter. He had no concept of language yet, but in the strange stew that is consciousness, alphabet noodles appeared, and his internal monologue began. His first conscious decision was to remove himself from the sand, and so he did, post haste. The top of his rock castle called out to him, and as he scaled it to the top, he began to contemplate life, the universe, and everything. Or as much of everything his small brain and limited knowledge could encompass. Which is to say he thought about food.