Angelle's mine, but the rest belongs to Joss.

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Fire....Have you ever noticed that most everything looks better in firelight, where the crackle and dance of the flames illuminates with just a touch of warm glow, shining on the soft subtle tones of things and hiding the imperfections? It's enough to make one sigh and remember how beautiful the world really is.

Unfortunately, no matter how much light or lack there of is around, the guts of a swamp pig are still ugly and stink like the empty bowels of a dead dog roasting on pavement in the middle of a summer squelcher. Hope that's enough description for you.(good thing you weren't eatin', huh?) Anyway, back to the guts of a pig...because that's exactly what I got thrust in my face contained in a box while approaching the fire, with my arm in Mal's.

"Hey, Angelle, heard you're gonna go after that gator Lye done spotted near the fishin' hole. Might need bait so I saved ya the guts from the pig." Remember the backwater inbred joke we have going around now, well, the man before me was the epitome of just that. Bubba (I swear that's what his good momma christened him) had been a bur in my side since the day we both came out squalling. His momma blamed mine for his coming early since the doctor figured she had about another three weeks.

Both of us were healthy as oxes, though I was always better at everything, save for peeing standing up, never did quite get the hang of that one. When the boys picked on Bubba for being big and dumb, I would step in and soon he became the puppy I never did want. Not that he wasn't a totally sweet guy, who despite his mental shortcomings (imagine Jayne without a nasty bone in his body, except toward the pig and that was only because he could wrestle done near anything).

"Well, thanks, Bubba. You always know just what I need."

" 'Course I do. We got that link Needles is always goin' on 'bout." He smiled showing off the few teeth he still had. Swamp pigs can be right orner