F Hogan
So I was taking a nap back home with my door locked. I have my “Ocean Sounds” cd in and I light about five scented candles while I nap. I sleep in my jeans so no one sees my bits and pieces if I jump out of bed screaming. That’s none of their business!
I forgot something however, to lock the windows. I feel something scratch at the window and just roll over and go back to sleep. I then quit smelling lavender and autumn spice and begin smelling blood. BLOOD? I open my eyes and see Hogan with a crow bar just outside my window dangling dangerously from the roof. I shriek and jump back as Hogan takes the crow bar, breaks my window, and jumps into the room, teeth dripping with blood and Tanna, the neighbors poodle’s, severed head clutched in his right paw as he swings into the room. I leap to the door as Hogan runs after me biting at my heels. I know if Hogan trips me I am certain to become “puppy chow”, and not the kind of puppy chow that everyone hearts, either.
I run upstairs where Tony is sitting in my favorite chair cleaning his pistol. I asked him, for the love of God, to help me. He just laughed at me and pistol whipped me. The room grows fuzzy and I start to fall, I catch myself just as Hogan leaps at my face trying to rip it off in a single powerful bite.
I dive over the couch and run downstairs, Hogan hot on my trail. I then take our tea kettle on the stove and splash the boiling tea in Hogan’s face. He’s burned but feels no pain as he follows me upstairs. Exhausted I stop to try and fight the vicious dog by hand. Big Mistake. The Dog doesn’t go for my face, heels, feet, or hands. Those would’ve been a luxury. Instead Hogan show’s how evil he is, and with a wag of his tail he sinks his teeth into my favorite pair of jeans. RIP…TEAR. Hogan stops, his deed is done. I fall to my knees in an eruption of tears while Tony pistol whips Brenna.
Hogan…you’re dead to me.
6 comments March 6th, 2006