Wolves are endangered, probably because people keep putting them in their bodies. Please stop hogging all the wolves.
The one you feed is the one that gets bigger. The one you didn’t feed became that cold, shaky dog from the Sarah McLachlan S.P.C.A. commercial, which is what led to ad-free streaming TV. But the dog you did feed? It rescued a baby goat from a flood and was featured in a human-interest story on HuffPost.
One is the kind that gets freaked out and pees on stuff for no reason; this is especially disturbing given that it’s inside you. Maybe that should be the one you don’t feed. The other cat, you have to give daily shots for diabetes. You can see why so many opt for the wolves.
You weren’t planning on feeding either of them, yet here they are, fighting over a fish skeleton you had floating around in your psyche for some reason. You probably weren’t aware that you had garbage inside you, but yep! Your soul is a regular dumpster, and your eyes are the windows to a popular raccoon restaurant.
One is a restaurant dumpster and always smells like ketchup. That’s where the raccoons hang out. The other, a hospital dumpster, is full of organs and needles, and is the first place you’ll look for a rabies shot when one of the raccoons eventually bites you.
Two is the standard number of kidneys people have. Unless you gave one away to a sibling with whom you have a difficult relationship. Then you just have the one kidney, no thank-you note, and a hollow spot for extra fish skeletons.
One will not implant a chip in you or make you sterile, and the other one also will not do those things. All the chips in your body are the ones that you put in your mouth while watching a cartoon show for adults last weekend. Having two vaccines inside you means that in a few weeks you can resume watching adult cartoons and engaging in physical contact with someone you met only very recently. Neither of you will have any idea what you’re doing or how your bodies even work at this point. It’s as if you never stopped having awkward physical encounters in the first place! Just like riding a bike.
They are both rusty and missing seats and locked to a rack outside a church that you’re not comfortable entering. Keep in mind, this is all inside you. One of the bikes is a “boy’s” bike, which means there’s an extra bar, to symbolize the penis. The “girl’s” bike is missing a brake, to symbolize that it will be difficult and dangerous to ride, which is something the girl will get used to.
One is haunted. The other one is also haunted. Lots of ghosts go back and forth between the two ghost residences. You’ve set up quite the fancy afterlife for these nomadic ghosts inside you. You should probably go ahead and just keep both houses. You wouldn’t want to piss off the ghosts.
It’s in fact more than two. (See above.) It’s a whole gaggle of ghosts. You’re filled to the brim with ghosts. Absolutely teeming with them. The original wolves actually vacated on account of the ghosts. So, that takes care of one problem. But now, to relocate these ghosts. Where was that church again?
You got sent home from one of them during a youth-group sleepover for dry-humping another teen-ager in the bushes. The other is where you found out that pastors are pretty inflexible about that whole “singular Messiah” shtick. Church never really was your thing. It would be a shame if these churches got ransacked by a couple of hungry wolves.
Inside you is a pack of wolves.
The exact number is sort of irrelevant at this point. It’s just a bunch. There’s an alpha, some females, some cubs—all equally destructive and unconcerned with the integrity of the inside of your body. Just your garden-variety wolf pack: cool-looking, depicted on a T-shirt, a bummer at parties and christenings. Nobody signs up for this, but here you are. It might be time to start looking for some antibiotics in one of those dumpsters.