Cougars (In the Well) (Note Post, Vol. 2)

There are cougars in the well. You don't know how they got there. You don't want to know. You just want them gone.

There are cougars in the well.

The mayor's going crazy and the water's turning maroon.
You need to get the cougars out. They swim in circles, going nowhere, whispering Dutch obscenities like awful children. Sniggering into their handkerchiefs. Tearing up newspapers. No respect.

There are still cougars in the well.

You attempt to coax them out with promises of fine wine and loose women. No dice.

Frustration.

You watch them anxiously. Stirring their cocktails. Grimacing into the brickwork. Handing out business cards to each other.

Disgusting.

Suddenly your face is a sled and you rush to get the antivenene.









But there are still cougars in the well.