Raised by Wolves

My mother and father were feral. They went around suckling the breasts of strangers, barking like dogs. Scientists were always taking notes in boustrophedon writing to keep them in the dark. But they already were! The house was as black as a tar pit. Mom pawed at the batteries from a dead flashlight, and dad’s toupee fell over his eyes as he napped in front of the dark television, blood on his lips.