Monday, October 16, 2006

Chapter 1 - Episode 3

...This one older, he must have been 4 or 5 years old. That Christmas he had gotten a dog, not a puppy like all other kids in school, but a grown up stray dog. Too old to learn new tricks, but he didn’t need a dog that could learn new tricks, he needed a dog that would sit still when he told it to do so, and that Bobby did. The dog would do anything if the reward would be to sit still. It didn’t take long for him to understand this laziness of the dog would be of great help with his plans, plans he didn’t actually make.

That spring he had taken the dog into the forest where he had taken the dog, he never called it by its name, so often. The dog knew where to go and ran along with the squirrels. Up to the creek, where it played dead, until he would arrive and give the dog a hug. But that morning, he didn’t hug the dog. He had dug his fingers as deep as possible into the dog. At first he felt resistance from the skin and flesh of his friend, but once he gotten through it, he felt the warmth of the intestines of the dying animal. It was then when he found out about his skills. It didn’t take him any effort to sink his fingers into the bowels of the dog, and with the precision of a surgeon he removed the beast’s organs, one by one. When he got home he had told his parents that a car killed the dog and that he’d buried it. His parents were proud of their son, as he became a real man, not mourning for the death but embracing life. They never questioned him nor were they ever suspicious.

To be continued...

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