Stain Abel Versus Mankind By James Daniel Bowman III Feces has fallen and dried into a viscous crust on the rust on the hood of the car always parked in my next door neighbor’s driveway. I stare over the heads of dandelions in my own front-yard at the parched brownness of the poker-faced roses in his. My neighbor (who I’ll call Mankind, not knowing his name) is certainly the most sadistic person to come out of a woman’s womb in the last half-century. I can’t let myself to shed any more light on The Mess before I shed some shade on myself. I have, for a handful of years, been called “America’s favorite pervert.” You may know my name: Stain Abel. When Voltaire was dying, a priest came and said, “You should renounce the Devil,” and Voltaire said, “This is no time to be making enemies.” Every day, Mankind drags an animal by one of its twitching limbs into his lair. God-and/or-the-Lack-Thereof only knows what he does to them in there.