Butch... good dog Butch... good dog...

Them shadows can still be seen round these parts they sometimes say. I don’t believe it much though. Anyone whos says they’s still seein shadows is pullin your leg. They all changed, jus’ like that.

A man can barely describe it, the form of a woman, a feminine goddess, a creature of substance. I don’t of’en talk in no poetry but that’s the only way it can be said. Beautiful I tell ya. And each an everyone one almost just the same, maybe afew differences at first but lord, those went away fairly fast. Ya see, they alls came out lookin like that woman on my newly blown tv.

A’course, Butch was dead. Poor dog. I never really got that part, but I giss they jus’ thought sommin like him’d get in tha way. I never liked em much after that. But it took me a day to notice really.

They came in peace they says. They came for pleasure they says. They forgot ta tell us they came to break our backs an use us as slaves. For what we still dunno. All we knows is they wants iron, lots o’that iron.

I’ma runnin out of time over here. Poor Butch. I bet he knew. I bet them bastards killed him because he knew.