“Whaddaya think? Wanna go for it?”
      “Hmmm, I don’t know.”
      “Ah, c’mon Jimbo, just look at him.”
      “Okay, but we don’t tarry. We’re in; out and gone--got it?”
      “Yeah, yeah; in and out; like we was never there. I got it.”
      “We only circle once. Pick a spot on the edge.”
      “Let’s gooooo,” Ray jumped into the air.

      Jimbo glided off the edge behind Ray. Wingtip to wingtip they dropped out of the sky toward their target; a slow moving hulk of pulsing flesh at least a thousand times their size. Half way through the circle, Ray pointed to a hairless appendage that lay open and unprotected far from the beast’s center. Jimbo followed working down in a tight zigzag pattern; waiting until the last second before breaking off.

      Jimbo and Ray touched down a dozen wingspans apart. The landing was soft and silent. Jimbo hammered his cutting tool home. Sticky, warmth seasoned with the bright tang of salt filled his mouth. This was what he lived for.

      But life relied upon speed as much as stealth. Jimbo gulped a last mouthful and lifted off. Banking hard right, he headed for home. He was steep into his climbing turn when he caught sight of Ray. His buddy was still perched atop a fat, pulsing river of blue. Ray had hit a vein--the mother lode and he was gorging himself.
      “Break off!” Jimbo screamed as he buzzed close to Ray.
      It was too late. A mountain of monster was moving in on Ray. Jimbo watched in horror as the trap closed.

      SLAP!

      Ray became a red and black streak of goo. Ray was history. Jimbo turned away for home trying desperately to hold on to his stomach contents. As Jimbo climbed for safety, the air around him thundered.
      “Whoa dude, that skeeter really nailed you,” said a voice as big as the heavens.
      “Dude,” a second voice thundered. Then, the monster’s hand wiped Ray’s remains from its skin.