Rational Drunk

Dog, scurrying past his feet, an arrow tumbling, into a stream of shambling fur. In that fleeting moment it was a sewer rat, claws scratching hungrily against the laminate. Base, disjointed, glutton, looked smaller. It curved around the table, legs svelte and gold, and panted. It was a dog again, mammon, of flesh-padded paws and human eyes, which pleaded. May I have a biscuit? With its two front paws it leaned upon Olympus. Prometheus asked for a paw, said you may.