Crumbling and blowing away in the light breeze, the roof of the shack has shingles barley hanging on. The door to the shack lays next to the door frame on the front porch which is now more of a hazard than a veranda. The shack is missing large chunks of the walls and one can see straight through the building in many place. The walls are coated with fuzzy molds and fungus while the exposed wooden frame has been eaten away in many places by worms.
Abandoned Shack, Wasteland
worms
barn cat
I eat the mice that are in the barn and keep the farm free from disease carrying rodents. I am cute and furry and have lots of babies. I make a noise called the meow and come in a wide range of colors.
Oh yuck. Don't get any worm juicy on my paws. Keep your paws and your claws to yourself and we will get along fine. Steer clear of that skillet. I hear the master likes fried worms. Gasp!  Worms are poor foodstuffs.  I eat DIRT.  DIRT.  That cannot satisfy anyone's palate. At least I don't anger your master as you do.  He almost hit you when he threw that glass last night.   You turn dirt into delicious dirt poo. Master has strange taste. He must.  He keeps you around.  Did you venture down to the glade today?  Just beyond the northern edge.  There were men, they spoke secrets in a language I did not understand.  They burried a corpse.  I prefer to sit around and lick my paws. And say meow. Foolish cat.  You sit all day on the porch, just like the fuzzy mold that eats away this shack.  The forest reveals secrets to those of us who would only listen.  Why, only yesterday two young lovers made a vow.  It was beautiful.  Then the strange men brought a corpse today.  What did you do?  What did you see? or learn?  Nothing, except how to dodge the shingles as they fall off the roof.  Master will not always be, you know.  What will become of you then?.  Meow Small minded cat.   You're a worm, my friend! You think too highly of yourself. You say that as though my kind will not one day feast on your master's corpse...and yours.  