‘This ain’t her first rodeo’ (adult situations)

My family and I were shopping for a living room suite when we spotted a furniture store we hadn’t visited yet. It was set up as you would expect. The tastefully arranged showroom was decorated with all types of furniture in a stylish, contemporary format. We’d already been to a dozen others. They all look alike to me. I was sick of seeing the same sofas over and over. The only thing that really changed from one to the next was the color of the material and the amount of stuffing in the cushions. Every sofa, love seat, and recliner in the place was otherwise the same.

Unlike the highly repetitive nature of mid-priced home furnishings, the salesperson was extraordinary. She was a ‘looker’ and more importantly, she really knew how to ‘work’ the customers. More specifically, the MALE customers. She was engaging, flirtatious, and yet still maintained a very professional demeanor. She knew how to seduce all of the bored ‘father’ types; while simultaneously avoiding alienating the wife who was right beside him. She even sucked up to the whiney kids who could hasten their parent’s departure. She astutely offered them a candy bribe. It was a shrewd strategy. I could tell it wasn’t her first ‘rodeo’.

My wife and I found a couple decent prospects among the clusters of drab and mundane ‘neutral’ colored living room sets. We asked ‘Angel’ for the price of the ones we were interested in. Lo and behold; they were ‘on sale’. Color me surprised. Honestly, when aren’t items at a furniture store ‘on sale’? That’s their M.O. Angel explained that the ‘big sale’ ended later that Saturday at closing time but if we weren’t ready to commit, she’d still let us have the 20% off discount, Monday morning. My wife didn’t see the lascivious wink Angel slipped me. I have to admit, it sent an electric shiver up my spineless spine to receive warm attention from a siren like that, even if we both knew it was insincere. In hindsight, it was a masterful gesture on her part. She baited the hook and gave me a tantalizing nibble before snatching it back out of reach. She knew I’d be back to see how much more I could get.

After leaving, we discussed the two different options at length. We went back and forth between them but I had no doubt that as soon as we decided, I’d have a reason to go back Monday morning to discuss ‘terms’ with Angel. In the end, I wasn’t concerned over which we decided upon. Either one offered me a valid excuse to get myself into deep trouble. I just didn’t know how DEEP until later. Angel may have handed out lollipops to the kids but I was the textbook example of a ‘sucker’.

Monday couldn’t come fast enough for my philandering little heart. Time always drags on when you are up to no good. I honestly didn’t expect anything to happen beyond a little improper flirting, but the slightest of possibilities was there, no matter how unlikely or remote. I was running on the adrenaline of lustful conquest. That unstable hormonal drive makes you do exceptionally stupid things.

I almost trotted up to the front door like a hungry soul picking up a pizza. To my chagrin, I didn’t see her at first. I actually began to fear that Monday was her day off but she finally appeared from the doorway to the entrance to the employee area. Seeing me alone, this drop-dead-gorgeous, early twenties ‘smokin’ hottie’ made a beeline straight for me: her hapless ‘mark’.

“Ah, I see you came back to see ME again!”; She coo’ed. “Are you ‘alone’ this morning?”

All I could do was nod and smile like a doofus. She was reeling me in like a fish a little too anxious to be caught. It’s a fatal flaw for the male ego to be so blinded by fake flattery and insincere praise that it refuses to see the coiled springs of a trap. Many a man has fallen for less attention but I should have known better. Even then, I realized she was only flirting with me to get a sale, but I didn’t care. I was along for the ride of my own demise.

“I have ‘something’ at the back of the warehouse that I believe you’ll want to see.”; She offered innocently with soft doe eyes and full, ruby lips. I just nodded again at her clear innuendo. It’s all I could do, at the moment. She took me by the hand and led me through a narrow series of corridors and aisles of crates. I was struck by temporary pangs of nagging guilt but it quickly passed as I followed her exquisite body to a very dark, remote corner of the warehouse. Before I knew what hit me, she whirled around and kissed me passionately.

I kissed her back like she was the last female on the planet. It was intoxicating, deeply sinful, and highly erotic. I was so aroused by the inappropriate activity we were swept up in that I would have agreed to anything; and that was the point. At that moment the improbable fantasy was real. She really desired ‘me’; I convinced myself. There was certainly no denying what was going on. Seductively, my little furniture store vixen removed her high heels and unzipped her dress. Taking full control, she steered me toward a pile of mattresses in the corner.

There before me, this vision of female perfection was completely nude and absolutely ravishing. I only hesitated for a split second to ‘drink in’ the contours of her flawless body before disrobing and climbing on top of her. I couldn’t believe what was happening! Penetrating her was the definition of heavenly; but almost immediately I noticed something incredibly odd. In the heat of the carnal moment, I didn’t want to get wrapped up in distractions but she was a little ‘loose’. “This ain’t her first rodeo.”; I thought again with a grin. As we were going at it ‘hot and heavy’, I started feeling strange. It was as if I was having an ‘out of body’ experience.

The room started to spin. I felt like my heart was going to come out of my chest. She began to ‘squeeze’ me in a way that I didn’t think was humanly possible. I felt like I was losing control of more than just my boiling seed. She squeezed even harder. I groaned in both ecstasy and genuine pain. Then I must have lost consciousness. The next thing I knew, I was sliding down a long slippery, dank tunnel. Unbelievable panic set in. I tried to stand up in the pitch darkness but kept falling down. I couldn’t keep my footing on the slippery ‘floor’. Infinitely worse, I wasn’t alone in the dark. A chorus of men’s amused voices addressed me. I instinctively covered my nakedness.

“Hello there. What’s your name?”

“Ray”; I stammered. “Umm, What. What is this place?”

“We’ve humorously dubbed it: ‘The waiting womb’. Near as we can tell, we are all inside Angel’s well-used uterus. She seduced all of us, and one by one we were sucked inside her bewitching body like a vortex trap. We all arrived here the same way you did. Via her impossibly expanding vagina.”

I heard what the voice said but it didn’t compute. How could it? The other men chimed in and introduced themselves. Some laughed. Several of them had been there a few days ‘in the hole’ to think about their self-imposed misfortune and our mutual circumstances. In denial, I blindly felt around her spongy walls looking for an escape. The others assured me there was none.

As incredible and surreal as it all sounded, I couldn’t deny how my experience had started. Their stories were almost identical to my own. They had been seduced by her doe eyes, luscious lips, full breasts, and long black hair. The rest didn’t make sense in a modern world of science and logic but here we all were; lost in a slick, darkened, flesh cave. I dared to poll my fellow fools to see if any of them had any ideas of how to escape the ‘honey trap’.

“Physically, I don’t know how it’s possible that we came to be inside of her”; one of the other lost souls in the darkness began, “but if she is otherwise a human female, then she’ll have a monthly cycle…”

“That sounds pretty far-fetched.”; I remarked in exasperation. “How can you realistically expect for ‘that’ exit strategy to work?”

“Because. This ain’t my first rodeo either.”; He deadpanned.

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Posted in Controversial topics, creepy, Different Perspectives, Fiction Stories, Horror, Humor, Macabre, Mystery, Sarcasm, Science Fiction, Supernatural, Thought provoking, Thriller, Twilight Zone Inspired, Utopia & Armageddon, Whimsical | Leave a comment

‘Never kill a spider’

If you are like most people, you have no room in your home for spiders. Even those who appreciate the natural pest control aspect of their webs, still want them outside. Way outside. Here’s a little science factoid to make your skin crawl. They are never more than six feet away from you at any given time. Sometimes closer. Go ahead. Turn off the light and go to sleep tonight. They’ll probably stay off your pillow while you lie there, helpless and completely exposed.

I’ve never been much for housework. That indifference in my cleaning attitude brought about an uneasy truce with these creepy crawlers. I suppose if they are never more than six feet away, lazy people have an even closer range of arachnid to human. In the back of my mind, I always realized they were lurking around my home but I was a great pretender. I convinced myself they weren’t above me, crawling across my ceiling when the lights were out. They weren’t lowering themselves down by a strand of woven silk to dangle a few inches (or centimeters for the rest of the world) from your snoring mouth. Either that or I pretended ‘we’ had an unspoken agreement to ‘live and let live’.

All that naïveté went away when a mysterious sore on my arm started to itch. I ignored it for a day or two. Then it got worse and my whole arm started aching. I went to the doctor. They knew right away what it was. The truth is, I knew it was a spider bite too, but denial is a powerful thing. I kept hoping that it would just take care of itself. It wasn’t going to. Reality isn’t like that. It was going to get much worse in the end. They gave me a triple dose of a powerful antibiotic reserved just to fight flesh eating bacteria.

I lost some muscle tissue as they elected to cut away a little healthy skin to ‘starve it’. The theory is that just like a forest fire, necrotizing fasciitis needs ‘fuel’ to stay alive. In forest fires, they go ahead and cut down an exterior ring of healthy trees to prevent the spread of the fire. In my case, removing the nearby unaffected tissue helped to isolate the aggressive bacteria. Of course forest fires can still jump these ‘fire breaks’ and contaminate the trees beyond the safe zone, and so can flesh eating bacteria.

For a few days it was touch and go. A couple of my major organs were threatening to fail and my fever spiked wildly before it started to reverse. Even after the flesh eating bacteria was under control, I was at elevated risk or secondary infection by other opportunistic infections from my gaping wound. The external skin keeps out all sorts of nasty germs. With a large open hole, any present bacteria could just bypass my dermal defenses and attack my organs. I ended up needling a couple of skin grafts and laser treatments to heal the wound.

What started out as a tiny little spider bite turned into a three inch ugly scar and a half million dollar hospital bill. Did I mention I‘m not rich? You can believe that my prior indifference about housecleaning and my attitude about spiders changed drastically after I went home. I declared war. It was ugly. I made it my mission in life to destroy every unauthorized creature in my home. I cleaned. I sprayed. I called exterminators. I did everything I could short of burning down the house to eradicate those little creeps. I didn’t realize it at the time but that’s when it was about to go really bad.

From a health standpoint, all the toxic chemicals used to make my home ‘spider free’ were every bit as dangerous as they are. The poisons are very hazardous, cancer-causing carcinogens but I desperately tried to associate the lingering pesticide smell with a ‘safe house’. It was a false sense of comfort but it did help me sleep for a few days. For all the effort, I did have a spider-free house for a while but like anything else, they will develop an immunity to the poison. They don’t like being outside in fluctuating temperatures either. They want to be inside with you and me. Nifty.

In only a few weeks, I spotted the first known arachnid settler in my house. I was appalled. I was furious. I didn’t know what to do. The tiny creature on my bathroom counter wasn’t that different from the one that nearly killed me a month earlier! How did it get it? How did it survive the toxic cloud of chemicals I was exposing myself to daily, just to deal with my newfound phobia? I wanted to caulk up every inch of my home but my exterminator said that the little creep could have just as easily came in, inside a package or grocery bag. They can slip in though microscopic cracks in my ductwork. He delivered me a deathblow. It was clinically impossible to guarantee a spider-free residence. Even with his diligent efforts, a few will still get in and if they have an arachnid union, I’m done for.

Perhaps understandably, I developed a crippling fear of the eight-legged terrors. In just a few days, I witnessed several more of them in various places in the house. I wanted every last one of them dead but for each one that I squashed, it seemed that a half dozen more came to take their place. I developed ‘the shakes’. I couldn’t turn off my lights, so I couldn’t sleep. That breeds a sleep deprivation, narcotic-like psychosis. I ‘felt’ them crawl all over me. Their fuzzy legs scurried across my skin like torturous ‘butterfly kisses’. If I did accidentally nod off, I was petrified that one had crawled up my nostril or into my drooling maw. It was absolute, unrelenting hell.

That night I crashed hard. The lack of restful sleep and dopamine drove me into the deepest sleep I’ve ever experienced. While I fully admit that I did really fall asleep and I had been hallucinating earlier, I swear what I am about to tell you is 100% true. The multiplying spider population in my home contacted me within the dream. Yes, I know how that sounds but we don’t really know what their species is capable of. Who’s to say they can’t? I was told under no uncertain terms that if I killed ANY more of them, I would have the wrath of an arachnid army upon me. They also apologized for the bite on my arm that started my whole ugly crusade against them. Apparently, the individual that bit me violated their symbiotic code of conduct. She had been dealt with.

I woke up in a cold sweat and shivered about how incredibly vivid it all felt. It was the most terrifying, lifelike dream I’ve ever had. Of course I chalked it up to being the whimsy of extreme sleep deprivation but then something quite chilling happened. As if to reinforce the seriousness of the message, the spider from the dream was dangling directly above my head! Mock me if you must but it really happened and the message was received, loud and clear. I shall kill no more spiders in my home and I implore you to do the same. They have their ways of getting revenge. Creepy, crawly ways.

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‘I started feeding cat food to my dog’

It all started about a month ago when I bought a large case of premium cat food from one of those bulk ‘saver clubs’. You know the place. I don’t need to name drop it here. Previously my kitties seemed to like the brand and flavor of the product but they are apt to change their mind on things. It seems to be their natural prerogative to be difficult when the mood strikes them. Any feline owner reading this knows that situation well. All of a sudden, I was stuck with 38 cans of expensive ‘wet’ food that I didn’t want to go to waste. First I tried to give the box away but everyone I knew didn’t want it. Knowing how difficult the little balls of fur can be, no one wanted to risk ‘confusing’ their cats with a new palette choice.

I was back to square one, but I’m not easy to deter. After thinking about the issue a little more, I had a bright idea. We also give our dog premium grain-free food but he’s less-that-thrilled about crunching the hard-pressed, very dry nuggets. Every time he was present when we opened up the cat food, he lost his mind. It must smell like a fillet mignon in comparison. It seemed like a no brainer. We decided to give him a can of the wet cat food as an occasional ‘treat’.

Relax. I did an internet search. According to the random website I clicked on, it’s apparently ‘OK’ to let dogs eat food that is manufactured for cats. It’s just not safe to do the opposite because pet food makers add a special nutritional ingredient to cat food which cats need in their diet. Without creatine, they would get sick. Dog food doesn’t have it because dogs don’t need it. Based on the thirty second research I did, creatine is completely harmless to canines. In hindsight, perhaps I should have looked a little deeper but it seemed like a win-win situation at the time. I was making the dog very happy AND not wasting 38 cans of expensive pet food.

After a couple cans on the cat food, Blue started exhibiting some odd traits but I didn’t immediately make the connection. In the past, he was a constant companion. He was eager to play fetch and genuinely wanted to please his human family. After six or eight cans of the cat food, he seemed largely indifferent to my wife and I. He didn’t want to go on walks or other things. I did notice his lethargic behavior but worried he was ill. It’s not like he can tell us that his leg hurts or back aches. He is getting older. He slept a lot. We incorrectly chalked it up to age.

Oddly enough, when he wasn’t napping for most of the day, he was spry and chased birds and squirrels up trees in the yard. My wife and I thought it was ‘cute’. We also failed to take him to the vet because chasing smaller animals seemed to indicate he was feeling better. About that time, he stopped eating his dry dog food altogether unless we gave him his ‘cat food treat’ too. My wife and I tried to be clever and mix it with his dry food. That rascal just took his time and ate around the dog food! We might have laughed if the situation wasn’t so shocking. It seemed that my effort to save $25 worth of cat food had backfired. It was all he wanted now.

We tried to play hardball with him. We stopped giving him the wet food altogether. It was then that Blue went on what could best be described as a ‘hunger strike’. He refused to eat the dog food in his bowl. He would trot over to it, sniff the contents with indifference and then walk away! I’ve never seen such deliberate defiance from any dog in my life. We tried to outlast him or break his will but after a couple days, it felt too much like animal neglect. We had pangs of conscience. He just acted like he was taking the ‘high road’ to teach us a lesson. On the third day, we gave in and let him have a can of the cat food. Miraculously, he appetite returned.

In full denial, I went and bought a different brand of dry dog food. Maybe it was ‘bad’, we reasoned. He could smell if it was tainted and was probably refusing to eat it. Not out of stubborn principle, but out of self preservation. At least that’s what we told ourselves. No secondary answer presented itself when he refused to eat any of the other brand. Or the third bag of dog food when I bought that. Nope. Our once loving, obedient canine had put his paw down. He only wanted cat food; and an occasional ball of yarn to play with. If anyone wants two nearly full bags of premium, grain-free dog food, please let me know. And a word of sage advice, never (under ANY circumstances) give your dog any cat food to eat. (Unless you want a dog that sleeps all day and refuses to come when you call him.) On the bright side, the stray mouse population around here has went way down. (Note: this is a parody story) 😋

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‘The scales of Mercury’

The sun beats down upon my head,
burning my exposed opaque skin.

Another solar judgement meted out,
punishment for a long-forgotten sin.

Whether it’s seen as pleasure or pain;
it’s only a matter of degrees.

One temperature may feel glorious,
but another brings us to our knees.

The sun is both friend and foe
but if it ends then all life goes.

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‘The scales of Mercury’

The sun beats down upon my head,
burning my exposed opaque skin.

Another solar judgement meted out,
punishment for a long-forgotten sin.

Whether it’s seen as pleasure or pain;
it’s only a matter of degrees.

One temperature may feel glorious,
but another brings us to our knees.

The sun is both friend and foe
but if it ends then all life goes.

Posted in Different Perspectives, Essays & Rants, Inspirational, Mantras, Poetry, Recollections, Thought provoking, Uncategorized, Whimsical | Leave a comment

‘To follow the light’

It was all over in a flash. Jan was pretty sure she was dead. One minute she was on the side of the road hitchhiking, the next she was floating in an ethereal state of abject nothingness. It was like being in the desert without the gritty sand underfoot, or the merciless heat in the air. The gut-wrenching solitude was no less devastating though. The individual formerly known as ‘Jan Wyatt’ was consumed with a deep, foreboding sense of hopelessness.

A single glowing ball of light cut through the monotone haze. In the lifeless, flattened realm of death; the beautiful gleaming light drew her attention like a powerful magnet. Floating in the nothingness just reinforced her mounting sense of fear and dread. The mysterious radiance above however was a welcomed source of warmth and comfort in the uncertainty of limbo. It called to her. It beckoned. Who wouldn’t be drawn to something diametrically different in such dire surroundings? Jan willed herself toward the illusive glowing ball but her non-corporeal momentum just pushed it away at the exact same rate as her progress! It was like a carrot dangling from a stick and she was the horse, futility trying to nibble on it.

Time held no meaning there. There were no seasons in the bleak abyss. She doubled her efforts to catch up with the fleeing light but no amount of exertion made any difference. Her efforts just pushed it away faster. It occurred to Jan that if there was a test at the end of life, it was possible that obvious, ‘easy’ choices weren’t necessarily the correct ones. Maybe chasing it was a trap for the easily swayed.

Frustration and uncertainty plagued her disincarnated mind. Somehow, even the most ‘obvious’ thing to do was in question. Should she chase the radiant becon? Was it a test to see how much effort she would expend to achieve a desired goal? Was it all to see how she handled difficult adversity and obstacles? Surely life itself and it’s tragic end bore that out. If it was a ‘trial’ to evaluate how she reacted to the only thing of interest in the womb-like realm, she would surely fail.

Perhaps she was overthinking it. Jan didn’t know which way to go. Instinct or rebellion. Greater effort or indifference. There was no one else to advise. There was no migratory path or pattern to follow. In a hazy, spectral world without substance or color, how could the only source of great brilliance be a sadistic trap? She thought of a moth. It navigates to a flame purely by raw instinct. Everyone knows the outcome of that decision making process. Indecisiveness and fear of the unknown held her in place. She was gripped by an even greater level of despair but alas, all hope was not lost. She was no longer alone.

Floating all around her, other amorphous objects drifted by in the ectoplasm-like matrix. They seemed to be chasing the radiant glow also. She watched in fascination. Like her, they were essentially colorless and indistinct in size or shape; almost like a school of graceful jellyfish in the ocean. Initially they had no more luck in reaching the ball of light than she did but their combined efforts brought forth a significant wave in momentum. As individuals, they could not reach it but en masse, they were making real progress. Jan felt genuine hope for the first time. She willed herself to join them and flow within the viscous, current, toward the unknown source of illumination. Even if their path was the wrong choice, she wouldn’t be alone any more.

On the side of the rural roadway, Jan’s mangled body was face up, lying in a drainage ditch. Her lifeless eyes pointed toward the fading sun. The last connection she possessed to her physical self floated within the murky environment of her eye fluid. Her spirit was finally able to ‘move on’ with the unusual aid of ‘floater’ debris inside her vitreous humour.

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‘The thing from the pit’

I bought my little farm about six years ago and soon carved out a quiet, rural existence in the lower Tennessee valley. Growing up, I never expected to find myself living a blue collar lifestyle. I couldn’t even fathom such a thing. I had ambitions to make something of myself and worked very hard to get ahead in the city. For every inch forward I’d claw in the rat race, someone else would step on me in their pursuit to get ahead too and push me back to the starting point. Eventually I grew tired of the dog-eat-dog world and gave it up. I’d had enough and just walked away. With my business experience, I could use and apply what I had learned almost anyplace.

At my farm, I could see the fruits of my labor almost immediately. It was hard work but I was only competing against myself. If it failed or prospered, it was on me. Other than the bank, no one else cared. I left the rats behind. By the second year, I was raising enough food to feed myself. By the forth, I grew enough crops to partially supplement my primary income. As of this year, I stand to make a substantial sum as a part-time farmer. That brings me to the hole.

In the back yard by the woods there used to be a massive old oak. It was gnarled and not long for this world. By my second year here, it had died and began to crumble. Two years later the behemoth had collapsed to a pile of rotting rubble. I just let it be. There was always something else around the farm that needed to be done. I elected to let nature take its course. I suppose I’d grown so used to it’s decaying carcass that I didn’t even notice last year when it was all but gone. To my amazement, the crumbled trunk and pile of rotting limbs had collapsed upon itself like a black hole and was now replaced by a huge pit in the ground.

I guess the extensive root system had completely dissolved the ground table beneath it and caused the instability. Fearing that the sink hole might erode even further, I used my long-range RC drone to survey the depth of the massive vertical pit and transmit video back to my computer. With no bottom in sight, I knew it was deep but I wasn’t prepared for the extent of it. I never reached the bottom! My transmitter warned me I was nearing the end of its three quarter mile range! I had to bring the drone back up before it permanently lost contact with the remote.

I was amazed. It seemed impossible that I had a ‘bottomless pit’ on my property but I knew the drone didn’t lie. Shake your head in disgust if you want but the pragmatist in me decided to use the massive pit for a practical purpose. I had brush, old tree branches, unwanted dirt and dozens of other things that I would have hauled off or burned. With the pit, I had my very own ‘bottomless’ landfill.

Obviously I didn’t want to pollute my groundwater. That would be stupid and irresponsible. I care about those things so in the past six months, I’ve been tossing in every biodegradable item I could find into the thirty-foot-wide chasm. Despite my aggressive efforts, there is no sign of it filling up. It allowed me to clear up all of the unsightly brush and lawn trimmings from my land, and from the adjacent woods. Every time I came across outdoor clutter, I’d just dump it into the unquenchable pit.

Last month, my beloved brown lab ‘Snickers’ was struck and killed by a car on the main highway. I was heartbroken when I found him. That dog was the most loyal companion I’ve ever had. I always assumed he’d live at least another five years but it wasn’t to be. I actually intended to dig him a proper grave but the spot where I’d tried to bury him was like excavating concrete. Try as I might, I couldn’t get the space much more than a foot in depth. It was going to be too shallow to avoid the coyotes in the woods from digging him up.

Ever the realist, I reasoned that it was no sign of disloyalty to just send his remains to the bottom of the old oak’s root shaft. “What is the difference?”; I asked myself. Dead IS dead, right? Regardless, I still felt a little guilty as I sent his broken body cascading downward like some sort of sacrificial offering to ‘The lord of the pit’. Admittedly, it was an unceremonious ending to a wonderful relationship. I elected to mourn about the loss in my own way.

That night I was awakened about 4am by the most ungodly roar I have ever heard. The booming shriek pierced the calm of the night air and echoed throughout the entire valley like a crashing military plane. I might have thought I was dreaming but every dog for miles howled and barked at the sustained, dissonant shriek. Whatever it was, I wanted no part of it. I just tried to drown out the cacophony with a pillow over my ears.

That might have been the end of this story but an infinitely more terrifying thing happened the next morning. Something I wouldn’t have believed if I hadn’t witnessed it with my own eyes. Snickers came back. I don’t know what brought him back or how he crawled out of that damn pit but it was definitely him. While he was basically the same in appearance, there were some MAJOR differences in his personality. He didn’t recognize me. His once loving, ‘puppy dog’ brown eyes were now the deepest hue of coal black that I have ever seen. They were every bit as black as the pit I had tossed him into the night before. His attitude and demeanor changed drastically too. My dead pal approached me in a hunting stance like I was his next meal! When he tried to attack me like a possessed, rabid animal, I was forced to dispatch him (again) with my trusty 12 gauge. This time I doubt he will return.

As if that wasn’t surreal enough, I discovered that the oak shaft had been disturbed by an unknown creature of immense size, from deep within. All around the rim of the pit, there were large chunks of missing earth. Some massive beast had clawed its way up the shaft and out of the hole. Heaven help us all. That unknown thing was now loose upon an unsuspecting world.

I dared to follow its claw-like tracks until they left the border of my farm property. From where it went, or what prey it sought, I do not know. If there are others like it at the bottom of the pit, I shall not awaken them with more unintended flesh offerings. I buried Snickers in another spot, under five bags of concrete to keep his corpse down permanently. May the dog that I loved finally Rest In Peace; and may the shrieking beast of the pit return back to hell whence it came.

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