Some Punching Required
The deer’s smile was as slimy as his slicked-over hair was greasy. He dressed fashionably as he stood on that Savannah Central sidewalk, dark grey coat and scarf and gloves to command attention from passerby as he spoke to the horse reporter and her bear cameraman.
“—and truthfully, I have to ask mammals to stop using that word for me and my movement. It’s a historical term, and it just doesn’t resonate with people today.”
“So what you mean,” said the horse, looking more and more uncomfortable to be there, “is that your ideas aren’t actually any different, it’s simply a branding problem? As if Bellwether’s actions can be made more palatable?”
The deer paused a moment, jaw working as he sought his answer. “What I mean is… it distracts from the real issues mammals should be thinking about. We spend so much effort trying to insure predators have equal rights to us prey, when what we should really be asking is if we really NEED predators to begin with, or—”
The horse reporter, though surprised by the fennec fox flying out of nowhere to punch the deer to the pavement, couldn’t quite find it in herself to feel all that concerned.