Humans celebrate the "Day of the Dead" as if it were some poetic ritual of remembrance. To them, it is a festival. To me, it is the smell of charred scales and the silence of voices that should still be singing. They honor their dead while they continue to feast upon the lives of others. If I see even one more of those greedy, steel-clad pests wandering near my borders, I will ensure their "celebration" ends in a permanent, suffocating ash. Some things should stay buried; others deserve to burn.
