The sun must have been exhausted because it was no longer able to keep its high position in the sky. Neither did it shine so brilliantly and neither still did it release such destructive rays. Instead it drifted slowly beneath the horizon, painting brilliant reds and purples against the clouds in the distance. A coyote howled. The man turned his head to see which direction the sound came from but saw nothing. Turning back to his front, the man was startled to see a pair of coyotes staring back at him. Sitting side by side, the dogs grinned, tongues hanging to the side. One of the animals stood up and circled the man and the monster, snapping his jaws at the air. The other sat silently, panting as if they had just enjoyed a long, winded run. The one that circled them, however, did not pant at all, only snapped his jaws to the left and to the right, as if he was performing a ritual dance around the man and his companion. Upon completing the circle and returning to his original position next to his noticeably smaller partner, the coyote leaned down and stretched out his forelegs, laying his head down at his paws. Or was he bowing? The man would have not thought it odd if he were, but as soon as his muzzle touched his paws, the animal leapt up with fire in his eyes, snarling and opening his jaws wide, aiming directly for the man's throat. The man fell backwards screaming and covered his face with his hands. He braced his body against the sand for impact but never felt it. Opening his eyes, he looked around him and saw no trace of the wild dogs. The gila sat upright near his briefcase, which he had thrown in his desperation. The man shook the sand out of each shoe and stood up, once again straightening his jacket and tie, retrieved his briefcase and continued on his way. The gila quickly followed suit. Dusk had long passed and the only sign of light came from a sliver of moon that hid behind a thick cover of clouds.
The temperature had dropped substantially and with it, the cold blooded gila's ability to keep in step with the man. The man noticed and bent down to pick up the creature. The gila obliged and the man lifted it into his pocket. Peeking out, the gila now had a birds eye view of their destination. Surprisingly, it looked the same three inches off the ground. After another while, the man stumbled across another cactus plant. He stopped, as the small, bulbous plant lay directly in his path. The man thought a minute about what to do, and then decided to sit down and enjoy the cactus' company. Setting his briefcase down, the man asked the plant what it did for a living. Hearing no reply, the man assumed the plant must've been an employee at one of the four firms that were consumed by the mega firm he now led.
"I'm terribly sorry for your misfortune," the man said upon his conclusion, "but I'm afraid business is business. I'm sure you understand perfectly."
The gila tilted his head to one side, observing the man's actions.
"Trust me, ma'am," the man continued, noticing the flower that topped the small desert plant, "if I were able to remain in business without eliminating some poor individual's job, I would! But you know how it is, jobs represent cost, and cost must be minimized." As he talked, the man pulled a pair of black leather gloves from his jacket pocket and pulled them over his hands. "In fact, I bet you didn't want to work in that stuffy building much longer anyway! I bet I did you a favor by absorbing your company, didn't I? All you need to follow your dreams is a firm push from behind, that's what I always say." The man carefully pulled the cactus from the ground and held it in one hand. "Oh, no need to thank me," the man said, waving the cactus in front of his face, "All I ask is an invitation to the grand opening of that art gallery you've been telling me so much about." And with that, the man took a large bite out of the plant, choking down the spines.
After finishing his meal, the man pulled a handkerchief from his front pocket and wiped the blood from his mouth. He removed his gloves and returned them to his jacket pocket, lifted his briefcase, spat blood into the sand, and once again continued his journey.
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