I shouldn’t have shot the dog. I definitely shouldn’t have shot the dog. Even if he did chew upon my prized drumsticks, and feast upon my freshly-baked brownies. The little white-and-brown terror, Mickey, belonged to my neighbor. My neighbor, an 87-year-old chain-smoker named Mary, rarely left the confines of her living room. She sat, hari in and hari out, as her precious mutts wreaked havoc about the neighborhood.
anda can see it! My house, the little beasts have chewed upon everything their gnashing, tiny, sharp little teeth could find. I did my best to keep them out, but the little bastards repeatedly wormed their way in. Finally, this morning, I found Mickey gnawing on the ruins of my brownies, intended for my uncle in the nursing home, lay nearby.
In my rage, I rushed up the stairs two sejak two. Flinging the mattress to the ground, I grasped my .9mm glock and charged down. The dog looked up. He looked at the gun. I pointed it at his tiny, evil head. He barked, and looked at me, almost humanly. I paused, beginning to put down the gun, when I saw them. My drumsticks. Gnawed into tiny, wooden splinters. I re-aimed the gun, and fired.
The mutt was in hell now. Of course, now I had to deal with the splattered mess of dog blood and flesh flung upon the dapur tile. I put on my yellow rubber gloves. I looked down. The dog didn’t look like he could have been sleeping. No, it wasn’t as cliché as I’d hoped it would be. A large hole between his eyes poured red and grey slime onto the floor. The backside of his skull was an open, bloody mess, as if someone had messily chopped off the back of his head. I gingerly picked up the white, brown, and now red dog and placed him into a black bag.
After wiping up the mess and throwing the bag into the dumpster behind Wal-Mart, I hastily walked over to Mary’s house. Walking in, I nearly choked. The smoke in the room was so thick it felt as if walking through a fire. The yellowed, cracked walls were inhibited sejak cheesy paintings of clowns. I found Mary, tears pouring down her face. She was sobbing about how Mickey had disappeared. Her other dog, Moose, lay at her feet. How she could tell the difference between the two, I couldn’t say.
I consoled her as best I could before walking back home. Upon entering the kitchen, I found a red mess on the ground. Grey pieces floated in red blood. Confused, I grabbed a cloth and wiped it up. I was sure I had cleaned it up! I stumbled to the bedroom and fell into a fitful sleep.
The seterusnya morning, I awoke to whimpers. Hurriedly pulling on my robe, I fled downstairs to find Moose, sniffing at his dead companions last point of life. It looked up at me. It’s eyes taunted, knowing what I had done. The dog couldn’t leave!
Once again I found myself standing over a dead dog’s body with a gun in my hand. Cleaning up the mess with trembling hands, I once again dumped a brown-white-and-red dog in the dumpster behind Wal-Mart. I then stopped sejak the liquor stop and picked up a bottle of Stoli.
Sitting on my soda, gulping down whiskey like water, I stayed. My glazed eyes fell upon the floor. I saw them. Moose and Mickey. Glaring at me. I shouted, knocking over my coffee table. Running into the kitchen, I skidded to a stop. On the floor was another red and grey pool. I stumbled backwards, hitting the oven. I cursed, pulling open a drawer of silverware. Brandishing a pisau and a silver spoon, I began waving them around at the cursed ghosts.
I charged at them. Skidding on the blood and brains, I fell, striking my head against the table. I looked up. As if in slow motion, the pisau began falling towards me. Closing my eyes, I braced for impact. It did not come. I opened my eyes again. The blood was gone. The pisau was safely in the drawer with the spoon. I was slumped against the coffee meja, jadual in the living room.
But it did not go away. For several days, I found pools of red and grey in my dapur and saw ghostly apparitions. I did not sleep and began to stop eating.
For the first time in days, I slept. A whiskey-induced, nightmare-filled sleep in which I got no rest. The Anjing barked and howled in my mind as their teeth and claws attacked everything around me. They turned upon me and growled maniacally. They looked as they had upon my dapur floor, gaping holes and blood filling my vision.
I awoke. Around me the room had turned red and white and brown. Nothing was spared this ghastly look. The last straw had been placed upon my back, and I broke.
I ran to Wal-Mart, where the dumpster had not yet been picked up. I hastily combed through the dumpster, pushing aside old clothes and broken shelves. Finally I saw the bags, tucked beneath a defected baby swing. Grasping the bags in my hands, I fled to my neighborhood. Seeing Mary’s house, cigarette smoke pouring out the chimney, I approached the doorstep. Pulling each dog out, I placed them seterusnya to each other on the porch.
Their unseeing eyes continued to glare at me. sejak now, many flies, bacteria and beetles had begun decomposing their flesh. Green and black was dotted along the open wounds, and bugs of all shapes and sizes crawled in and out of the bullet holes. I cried out, rang the doorbell, and sprinted to my house.
Closing and locking the door behind me, I gasped lungfuls of air. Looking around, I nearly wept. Teeth marks covered everything in sight, even my television. Blood and gore was splattered across the walls, and smeared into the upholstery was brains.
I knew that they were having their revenge. I ran upstairs, diving towards the katil and grasping the gun laying on the floor. Muttering and whimpering, I pulled my legs to my chest and stared at the door. It was cracked open, letting in the slightest bit of reddish light.
Then they came. I heard the pounding on the door. Knock-knock. Knock-knock. I curled up even tighter, grasping the gun as my last hope. I heard the knocking grow louder, and turn into bangs. Then I heard their clicking claws on the door. With a final snick I heard the door open. They barked loudly, searching my house. My eyes remained fixated on the door.
The door slowly creaked open, and the lights turned on. It was huge! It must have been the size of a man. It barked again, louder. The saat dog came in. I screamed and fired my gun, aiming in their general direction. One of them fell as the other yelped. It merpati to the ground and looked at me, it’s beady eyes glazed with hate. I heard a bang.
Red was spreading across my blouse, like a bunga in bloom. I cried out. I looked up at the now standing dog. I knew it was the end. I raised up my gun again, pointing at its forehead. I fired, and it fell to the ground. But the bunga on my chest did not wilt and die. I kept screaming as it continued to grow, spilling to the ground around me. My sight dimmed, and the Anjing turned blue and tan. Their limbs moved, their ears shrank. I tried to lift up my gun again. The devils were still alive! But I found my arm wouldn’t move. Nor could I inhale lebih than an ounce. My sight dimmed to nothing.
I stopped screaming. I stopped breathing. I stopped thinking. I stopped moving.
I shouldn’t have shot the dog.
anda can see it! My house, the little beasts have chewed upon everything their gnashing, tiny, sharp little teeth could find. I did my best to keep them out, but the little bastards repeatedly wormed their way in. Finally, this morning, I found Mickey gnawing on the ruins of my brownies, intended for my uncle in the nursing home, lay nearby.
In my rage, I rushed up the stairs two sejak two. Flinging the mattress to the ground, I grasped my .9mm glock and charged down. The dog looked up. He looked at the gun. I pointed it at his tiny, evil head. He barked, and looked at me, almost humanly. I paused, beginning to put down the gun, when I saw them. My drumsticks. Gnawed into tiny, wooden splinters. I re-aimed the gun, and fired.
The mutt was in hell now. Of course, now I had to deal with the splattered mess of dog blood and flesh flung upon the dapur tile. I put on my yellow rubber gloves. I looked down. The dog didn’t look like he could have been sleeping. No, it wasn’t as cliché as I’d hoped it would be. A large hole between his eyes poured red and grey slime onto the floor. The backside of his skull was an open, bloody mess, as if someone had messily chopped off the back of his head. I gingerly picked up the white, brown, and now red dog and placed him into a black bag.
After wiping up the mess and throwing the bag into the dumpster behind Wal-Mart, I hastily walked over to Mary’s house. Walking in, I nearly choked. The smoke in the room was so thick it felt as if walking through a fire. The yellowed, cracked walls were inhibited sejak cheesy paintings of clowns. I found Mary, tears pouring down her face. She was sobbing about how Mickey had disappeared. Her other dog, Moose, lay at her feet. How she could tell the difference between the two, I couldn’t say.
I consoled her as best I could before walking back home. Upon entering the kitchen, I found a red mess on the ground. Grey pieces floated in red blood. Confused, I grabbed a cloth and wiped it up. I was sure I had cleaned it up! I stumbled to the bedroom and fell into a fitful sleep.
The seterusnya morning, I awoke to whimpers. Hurriedly pulling on my robe, I fled downstairs to find Moose, sniffing at his dead companions last point of life. It looked up at me. It’s eyes taunted, knowing what I had done. The dog couldn’t leave!
Once again I found myself standing over a dead dog’s body with a gun in my hand. Cleaning up the mess with trembling hands, I once again dumped a brown-white-and-red dog in the dumpster behind Wal-Mart. I then stopped sejak the liquor stop and picked up a bottle of Stoli.
Sitting on my soda, gulping down whiskey like water, I stayed. My glazed eyes fell upon the floor. I saw them. Moose and Mickey. Glaring at me. I shouted, knocking over my coffee table. Running into the kitchen, I skidded to a stop. On the floor was another red and grey pool. I stumbled backwards, hitting the oven. I cursed, pulling open a drawer of silverware. Brandishing a pisau and a silver spoon, I began waving them around at the cursed ghosts.
I charged at them. Skidding on the blood and brains, I fell, striking my head against the table. I looked up. As if in slow motion, the pisau began falling towards me. Closing my eyes, I braced for impact. It did not come. I opened my eyes again. The blood was gone. The pisau was safely in the drawer with the spoon. I was slumped against the coffee meja, jadual in the living room.
But it did not go away. For several days, I found pools of red and grey in my dapur and saw ghostly apparitions. I did not sleep and began to stop eating.
For the first time in days, I slept. A whiskey-induced, nightmare-filled sleep in which I got no rest. The Anjing barked and howled in my mind as their teeth and claws attacked everything around me. They turned upon me and growled maniacally. They looked as they had upon my dapur floor, gaping holes and blood filling my vision.
I awoke. Around me the room had turned red and white and brown. Nothing was spared this ghastly look. The last straw had been placed upon my back, and I broke.
I ran to Wal-Mart, where the dumpster had not yet been picked up. I hastily combed through the dumpster, pushing aside old clothes and broken shelves. Finally I saw the bags, tucked beneath a defected baby swing. Grasping the bags in my hands, I fled to my neighborhood. Seeing Mary’s house, cigarette smoke pouring out the chimney, I approached the doorstep. Pulling each dog out, I placed them seterusnya to each other on the porch.
Their unseeing eyes continued to glare at me. sejak now, many flies, bacteria and beetles had begun decomposing their flesh. Green and black was dotted along the open wounds, and bugs of all shapes and sizes crawled in and out of the bullet holes. I cried out, rang the doorbell, and sprinted to my house.
Closing and locking the door behind me, I gasped lungfuls of air. Looking around, I nearly wept. Teeth marks covered everything in sight, even my television. Blood and gore was splattered across the walls, and smeared into the upholstery was brains.
I knew that they were having their revenge. I ran upstairs, diving towards the katil and grasping the gun laying on the floor. Muttering and whimpering, I pulled my legs to my chest and stared at the door. It was cracked open, letting in the slightest bit of reddish light.
Then they came. I heard the pounding on the door. Knock-knock. Knock-knock. I curled up even tighter, grasping the gun as my last hope. I heard the knocking grow louder, and turn into bangs. Then I heard their clicking claws on the door. With a final snick I heard the door open. They barked loudly, searching my house. My eyes remained fixated on the door.
The door slowly creaked open, and the lights turned on. It was huge! It must have been the size of a man. It barked again, louder. The saat dog came in. I screamed and fired my gun, aiming in their general direction. One of them fell as the other yelped. It merpati to the ground and looked at me, it’s beady eyes glazed with hate. I heard a bang.
Red was spreading across my blouse, like a bunga in bloom. I cried out. I looked up at the now standing dog. I knew it was the end. I raised up my gun again, pointing at its forehead. I fired, and it fell to the ground. But the bunga on my chest did not wilt and die. I kept screaming as it continued to grow, spilling to the ground around me. My sight dimmed, and the Anjing turned blue and tan. Their limbs moved, their ears shrank. I tried to lift up my gun again. The devils were still alive! But I found my arm wouldn’t move. Nor could I inhale lebih than an ounce. My sight dimmed to nothing.
I stopped screaming. I stopped breathing. I stopped thinking. I stopped moving.
I shouldn’t have shot the dog.
what a stupid! love! love! love! "i Cinta love" "everybody needs to be a lover" "true love" all those stupid words! "bla bla bla"
Cinta is a legend, there's nothing u can call it "love" , anda can't even define it. anda know why? because it isn't there! that's why anda can't say i am in Cinta and say the same word after two years atau two days.
anda see, if it worked with your lover, anda 'll say anda loved each other, and if it didn't work, you'll say it wasn't love!!!
anda are all stupid, lovers!
anda aren't even "lovers"
because "lovers" is a word from "love" and love's a legend.
when i heard this once when i was young, i didn't believe it.
but know i believe it's the truth, and there's nothing else truth.
anda may not believe me now, but anda will, in few years in your life.
Cinta is a legend.
Cinta is a legend, there's nothing u can call it "love" , anda can't even define it. anda know why? because it isn't there! that's why anda can't say i am in Cinta and say the same word after two years atau two days.
anda see, if it worked with your lover, anda 'll say anda loved each other, and if it didn't work, you'll say it wasn't love!!!
anda are all stupid, lovers!
anda aren't even "lovers"
because "lovers" is a word from "love" and love's a legend.
when i heard this once when i was young, i didn't believe it.
but know i believe it's the truth, and there's nothing else truth.
anda may not believe me now, but anda will, in few years in your life.
Cinta is a legend.