David Brooks

The puppy was whimpering in its kennel.  I knew that the puppy needed to relieve its intestines of a great pressure.  She was attempting to train the puppy to use the backyard as a pissing pot, she thought the best way to do this was to keep the dog in its kennel.  To let the dog out only to eat and go outside, thinking that the dog will eventually understand to use the backyard as a pissing pot.  I was not as optimistic.

I heard a noise in the garage.  I cautiously move down our stairs and proceed to open the door that leads to the garage.  I have no weapon.  I know that a battle is about to happen, you can always feel it in the air.  The door slowly opens as I rush out and jump two stairs and land on the trunkside of a sedan. Its not a person, but I can still here the noise.  I grab an axe.

I was suddenly attacked, the pain to my right leg was quite intense, a lot of blood.  It’s a fucking raccoon.  Those goddamn virus-carrying bastards are always hanging around my house, but now it fucking attacked me.

“Argghhhh”

“Goddamn bastard, where the fuck did you go?”

The fucker lunges at me for a second time, but this time I was ready.  I reach out and snap his neck up with my right hand.  I ram that sonofabitch down to the ground

“ahrhhhhhrhhh” the raccoon was screaming.

“ahhhhhhhhhhhh” but not for long.  I smashed his skull repeatedly into the garage floor for two minutes, the blood continued to keep shooting out, and onto my face and my body.  I could tell I am going to need to see a doctor.

I stopped slamming the rats head into the floor.  I was getting tired; he deserved everything that he got.