The cousins sat high up on the dusty molding, looking down on a living room put together more by poverty than design. Two humans, one fat and one skinny, were splayed out on mismatched furniture. Both slept. The fat one snored.

"I love it when they drink," said Searches for Shit. He adjusted a wing without taking his facets off the scene below.

"Why?" said Dines on Shit.

"Because that's when we can drink."

Dines on Shit sighed because his cousin had stated the obvious. He was not ungrateful for his cousin's company, but he was dumb as Shit sometimes. Unable to open the refrigerator door or uncap bottles, they were dependent on the humans.

"I want more," said Searches for Shit.

"Don't you think we've had enough?" said Dines on Shit. He burped, and some of the strong beer fumes went into his nose, making his facets water. "We could watch a movie. I have Reminiscences of a Squatting Dog."

"I don't like that arthouse crap."

"There's Big Dog Takes a Duker IV. They say it's the best in the series."

Searches for Shit frowned and got his wings going, with the buzzing and gentle breeze, then he went over the edge. He spiraled down toward the half glass of beer on the small wooden table beside the couch, but then veered toward Fatfuck at the last second. Dines on Shit sat up straight. His cousin landed on Fatfuck's nose. That was chancy because they didn't know if the humans were blacked out or just sleeping.

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Fatfuck stirred and brought a hand to his nose, but didn't open his eyes. Searches for Shit buzzed safely away. When Fatfuck put his hand down again, Searches for Shit lit on the nose again, and again Fatfuck moved his hand. Dines on Shit, from his perch high above, shook his head and smiled down at the action. Two more times, then Searches for Shit let him be. He lit on the rim of the beer glass. After pausing to lick his front legs, he crawled down the inside of the glass, burrowed into the foam, and took a long drink of beer.

A movement of orange caught Dines on Shit's facets. It was Badbreath! With the sport of annoying Fatfuck, they hadn't noticed the evil-eyed cat sneaking up. Dines on Shit had lost his father and more than one friend to that orange demon. He yelled down to warn his cousin, but it was no good. Flies had small voices that didn't carry.

Badbreath was almost to the table. Dines on Shit jumped off the molding. He was drunk enough to forget his wings until half way down, but he got them started in time. Badbreath was at the table, evil eyes trained on the glass. Falling more than flying, Dines on Shit steered into the cat's ear. It leapt back and brought up a paw. He buzzed out and gained some altitude. He stayed close enough to keep the evil eyes trained on him. He made figure eights above the vile creature. And there was that fuckall dragonbreath. He almost vomited in flight.

When he saw Searches for Shit clear the rim of the glass, he gained some more altitude and circled. Searches for Shit circled up to him. They nodded at each other. Dines on Shit zoomed down and buzzed Badbreath, then let the energy carry him back up. Searches for Shit dove and made a close pass by the creature, then he too popped back up. They took turns doing this. Badbreath got more and more worked up with each pass. The beast was furious now, swiping his paws in the air like a helpless fool. It was glorious. They laughed in flight. Then Dines on Shit made for the glass while Searches for Shit kept the beast occupied. Once he drank his fill of beer, they made one last pass close to Badbreath before circling back up to the molding. Dines on Shit was so drunk, he almost didn't make it.

They leaned back on the molding, satiated. "Fuck," said Dines on Shit, "I'm drunker'n Shit."