the headline reads:

creatures,
far and wide
come for the festivities.
they read the headlines,
but not the news
for they believe the
headline is good enough,
gives a taste
of what they need.
they believe it without
having to go any farther.
nothing's new.
nothing's changed.
there's new shit
the third Thursday
of every month
so they get high.
the creatures
stand
undivided in the truth
that leaks from the
tube. bloodbath
incarnate.
the windows are dirty,
but there's not much to see.
there is a glass of wine
waiting on the counter
so she washes it down
and peaks through the shades
across the way to the
neighbor's house where
she finds the old man
out in his underwear again,
clipping the hedges.
he wears a grin.
the shears are spot rusted,
but the blades still gleam.
he picks at his balls,
and discerns his next move,
wavering over the hedges
to eyeball the level of the cut.
she opens another bottle from the fridge
and pours another glass.
she takes a sip as the old man
delicately clips a stray leaf
from the hedge.
eyeballs it good,
and goes in for another clip.
the neighbor's Yorkie
bounds out from the hedges
and barks.
the old man is caught off guard
and jumps back.
the little dog pants.
the old man grumbles.
she downs the second
glass of wine
as the old man kicks at the dog.
the dog jumps him,
and begins humping his leg.
she giggles.
the old man falls back,
and in an act defying physics,
the shears tuck under the hedge,
lean drastically toward the old man's
torso,
and down, clipping off his testicles.
he screams in pain
while the Yorkie goes in
for another round on his leg.
      the headline reads:
man is castrated by lusty bitch in act
of exhibitionism.