Wile E. Coyote (1/5)

This is the desert, arid and hot. Not much happens here, except the occasional tumbleweed blowing past, on its way to another part of the desert, just as arid and just as hot. The national pastime here is watching the buzzards circling overhead, waiting for your demise. It's an absolute Nirvana if your idea of paradise is rocks and sand. Not much grows here, except the odd cactus, or a bit of scrub brush that the extreme heat hasn't yet murdered. It's a dead place, filled with dead and dying things.

I work here.

Coyote's the name. Wile E. Coyote...