I knew I was screwed when the head came off. But she had it coming. It came off with a plopping sound similar to when I bite through a rib. It has taken me several weeks to plan my revenge and even though it went horribly wrong, Cindy deserved it.
It serves her right for stealing my dignity, for making me the laughing stock of all the canines in the hood. How could she do that to me? How could she humiliate me in front of that bitch cat of ours? Didn’t she know that Missy will take the first opportunity and tell the world? Didn’t she realise Missy is like a feline twitter feed?
Don’t dare judge me, I didn’t have a choice. I had to save my reputation. If not I would be forever known as “The one with the brushed teeth.” I couldn’t take the snickering and laughs anymore. It had to be done.
It was still dark and the house was quiet. I made sure Mom was in bed and not writing her blog. She spends to many hours in front of that computer in my humble, canine opinion. I stealthily crawled into Cindy’s room on my stomach. For a moment I thought she got up and put the doll back on the shelf, but she didn’t. I have waited patiently for many nights, hoping she would forget, knowing she would. And tonight, tonight was my night, my opportunity. The moon smiled through the curtains and threw a beam of its soft light onto the little girl’s sleeping face. She looked so innocent, so angelic.
No, I had to be strong. It’s was the only way. She doesn’t even realise that I cannot look at chocolate without having chilling flashbacks of those tortorous moments still freshly printed in my mind. The day when Cindy grabbed me, sat on my stomach and… and… I still can’t say it.
I grabbed the doll in my mouth and retreated slowly out of the room. At one point she turned in her bed and I though my heart would stop. I was sure she was going to sit up and see me with a stupid puppy expression and her beloved doll in my mouth. When I was beyond the door, I sprinted like no hound ever in history, but didn’t have the same ability to reduce speed. I slipped on the polished floor and missed the doggy door completely, hitting the wall hard. Fortunately the doll acted as my own personal airbag, taking most of the impact. Unfortunately I heard a slight CRRRK, not realising at the time the crash dislodged the damn doll’s head.
To make matters worse, the doll couldn’t fit through the door. Eventually I climb through and started pulling frantically, then it happened… The POP. And I sat on my ass, outside with the body of the doll in my mouth. The head was rolling around the floor like that scene from Death Becomes Her at the bottom of the stairs, eventually coming to a stop with dizzy eyes staring at the ceiling. And the little circle of her mouth filling me with guilt. She was going to tell on me, fact!
As a dog I have a limited capacity to carry objects around, so I had to come up with a plan fast. I knew by the amber light in the east that the sun was going to show it’s face any moment so I had limited time. The evidence of my betrayal was still in my mouth and I begun to panic. I had to get rid of the body, and as a dog there was only one way we know how. Dig a hole.
I dug frantically at the edge of the garden and dumped the body unceremoniously in the ground and raced back for the head. I jumped through the door and then I heard the voices. My blood ran cold. I was too late. I was, well to put it bluntly, f*cked. There was no time to bury the head so I picked it up and raced into the kitchen. Mom was already packing their lunches, pineapple jam and bread.
Yes, pineapple jam and bread… Those poor kids….
Well, I hid under the counter, cause mom forgot the butter, likes she does every morning. She brushed past me into the pantry and I leaped out of my small window of opportunity and placed the head on the table. Now I will watch the story unfold…
I have watched CSI before so I know they will realise the truth soon. Mom took pictures and the questioning has begun. No one knows anything. The utter surprise on that little torturer’s face was priceless. But once they discover the body it will be the evidence of my demise, for I didn’t close the hole in the ground again. I am guilty and will take my punishment like the man-dog I am.
First thing first, find Missy and tell her of my revenge. Knowing that feline bag of gossip, the story will be out and my reputation fixed by this afternoon. I will be able to use the trees again, without stage fright, marking them shamelessly. And everyone will know: Don’t mess with Spotty, and maybe, if I’m lucky, some might even be calling me THING again.
If only Cindy would stop crying…