The Lone Wolf
The Lone Wolf stalked the streets of Bellyrub. His silver,
six-pointed badge, dirty and tarnished, hung loosely on his gray sheriff’s
vest, which was riddled with bullet holes. His taupe Stetson hat was five sizes
too large for his head, but he still looked formidable (at least from his point of view). His leather gun
holster lay far outside of his arm reach, but that was no problem. He could just lift his hind leg and scratch and the gun would fall right out. Of course, he might get a little carried away with the scratching, but still...
Anyway, he was stalking the streets, when a pair of Rottweilers came up to him.
“Howdy there, Sheeerif,” one of
them sneered.
“Howdy,” said the Lone Wolf
unconcernedly, sniffing at a tree. “What’s up?”
“Wee’ve got some unfinished
business with yoou,” snarled the other.
“Well, I don’t care,” said the Lone
Wolf, marking the tree. “I ain’t afraid of you two Rotties. You’re all teeth
and no brain.”
“Well, we ain’t afraid of yoou,
yoou little Doxie-Pin, you. You--You --,” they panted, evidently at a loss for a
proper insult.
He gave them a long, steady look
and they quailed. “Don’t make me hurt you, you two,” he said in a softer voice.
The Rottweilers gave a nervous
laugh. “Come on, let’s go,” one of them said. We’ve had our fun.” And they
trotted off, and at a higher rate than normal, he noted with pleasure.
He continued his stroll,
occasionally sniffing at a few trees. He
took a turn and came to the courtkennel, with its rough mahogany exterior,
still rife with bullet holes from the Dogbone shootout, and its windows, broken
through by that Whippet wanted for murder in 12 states.
“Howdy, young man,” woofed Aunt
Tailbeef.
“Howdy, Aunt Tailbeef! How’s the
garden?” he barked back.
“Fine!” she woofed. He went in through the dog door. His deputy, a
ginger Jack Russell by the name of Liverchicken, was waiting inside.
“Where have you been? Those two St.
Bernards violated the Littering Act in Section 12.7.13.4 of the Bellyrub Keep
Our City Clean Act, and your friend Aunt Tailbeef has been loitering for a good
hour above the limit clearly stated in Section 17.8.—“ was his deputy’s
greeting.
“Good morning to you too, Liver,” said the Lone
Wolf, chuckling. “Any mail?”
“A
little,” said Liverchicken, obviously put out by the abrupt ending of his
rant. "Some wanted posters, and that sort of stuff.”
“Good, I think I’ll just take a quick look,”
said the Lone Wolf.
The Lone Wolf nosed through the
mail calmly, but suddenly froze, and started scratching furiously. Thankfully
for Liverchicken, the Lone Wolf had taken out his gun before this
happened. However, Liverchicken only
felt concern for his friend, instead of anger. The gesture of scratching was
universally recognized by all dogs as a symbol of stress.
“What’s wrong, Wolf?” he asked.
“My brother’s on a wanted poster
here for theft and murder!” Lone Wolf said. “And what’s more, I invited him to
Bellyrub!”
Liverchicken started. “Is he coming
by Whippet Express?”
“Yes!” Lone Wolf responded.
“The next one comes in 5 minutes!”
Liverchicken said.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
When The Lone Wolf’s brother
arrived in Bellyrub, he found that all the windows had been boarded up . There
was nobody on the streets. In fact, the only signs of life were a few
tumbleweeds, a small mouse—and his brother with a dog he didn’t know. Both had
their guns. He must have figured out who I am, he thought.
Out aloud, he said: “Howdy, Wolfy.
Warm greeting.”
“I know you’re a criminal, Snuffles,” his brother replied.
“And I am going to collect the reward for your head.”
The unknown dog gave him a strange look, but said nothing.
“What? You would do the same,” said his brother, temporarily
distracted.
While he said this, Wolf’s brother scratched out his gun and
picked it up in his mouth.
“Goodbye, Wolfy,” he
said. He pressed the trigger.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Adrian awoke with a start. For a moment he thought he was
still in Bellyrub, hit by a bullet and dying in the dust. He got up. His
brother was next to him, doing something or other. He always was. That’s the problem with these humans, Adrian
thought. They are always doing something
instead of petting me and feeding me. If they just did that, they would be very
happy. The Lone Wolf stretched, and
went back to his interrupted nap.
THE END
lol, loved it! Great job kiddo!
ReplyDeleteLove the picture, love the story!
ReplyDeleteThank you! :)
ReplyDelete