Charms to Soothe the Savage Breast

The creature rises slowly from its resting place, its ancient joints creaking, slow to respond, ignoring its own disheveled appearance. Its dull eyes might be murderous, might be piteous, might be nothing more than that its rudimentary intelligence lags its treasonous muscles, that simply rising from sleep takes all its force of will. Everything, from its own hunger, its need to get about its daily business, even its need to simply move from one place to another, everything is shunted aside, jagged, broken, scattered, unimportant, all moot if it cannot win through to its prey, mere yards away, perhaps 10, but it seems much longer, yes, much much longer in the beast's desperate pursuit. It has set its sights, and naught else matters.

But AFTER I've had my coffee...