It was the best of times and it was the worst of times.
I’m speaking about the species of the glorious, tame beta male luxuriating in his native habitat. His innate home has shown itself to be a quaint Victorian, environmentally friendly tiny house. He dwells in solitude with his three Persian house cats, Tina, Trina, and Tammy. Watch out for Trina, she’s frisky!
His fluid, manicured hands bear a bedazzled bandage that fashionably conceals a cut he received arranging kitchen topiaries. He expertly chews the vegan cat food before he gracefully dispenses it upon Tina’s hungry mouth. “That’s purrrrfect” she seems to say as she rubs against his shaven legs.
From here we move to the question of beta male’s clothing decisions. He is arrayed in the finest of salmon shirts which brandish the words, “This is what a feminist looks like.” He remains a proud participant of the recent vagina hat women’s march. He truly understands our plight.
At nightfall, he alternates between manic and depressive episodes in which he bemoans the fact that he will die alone.
Tina, Trina, and Tammy will most assuredly feast upon his putrid beta carcass. Tammy will fight to have the first piece. She has always been the alpha of the group………