Crunchy

Marion kept clear of the Sleepwalkers. Not all of them tripped and stumbled and fell to the cold concrete to get back up and fall down again. Many of the Sleepwalkers dashed about at an unnatural speed. Fast or slow, Marion became nauseated when a Sleepwalker got too close. She was on a different frequency, a whole other level, than every man, woman, and child who populated her world. Animals were the only life forms that noticed, let alone understood Marion. Dogs and cats had the decency to ask about her day which was always appreciated. Marion never took for granted the kindness that only fur or feather or even scales offered.

"Oh my," Marion said to a blue Himalayan seated next to her on the bus, "don't you find there are so many distractions in our path that keep us from our true work?"

"I do," replied the cat as he eyed her from over the top of his horn-rimmed glasses. "To tear down the walls of illusion is not for kids, let me tell you. Rabbits, yes. But these blasted 'walkers? They are simply not up to the task. Their ineptitude places a great burden on the rest of us." Marion shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. She looked out the window just as the bus swerved to avoid a crater. Thick, heavy tires reduced something once organic into a series of crunchy popping sounds. Smoke billowed from the rubble of burned-out buildings. Grackles cackled as they descended upon a downed Sleepwalker. It was the corner hotdog vendor. Poor man, thought Marion. She returned her attention to her fellow commuter.

"Not fit at all, are they?"