Continue The Story... "Dog"
 

This is the "Continue The Story..." thread.

Rules:

1. Read the story from where you left off, so you're familiar with the continuity.
2. Using the Reply button (not Quote), add ONE sentence to further the story. You may add two short sentences if necessary.
3. Please, no obscenity.
4. Write whatever you like: horror, humor, romance, dialogue, narration, change narrative modes (1st, 2nd, 3rd person), simple or lavish description, corny or professional, etc.
5. It's for fun.

Next post begins the story...

They said I could choose one dog as a companion.

Size didn't really matter but color did.

Before I continue let me just say that bringing an ice cream cone to a kennel is a very poor idea.

All the dogs wanted the ice cream cone. One of the dogs bit my hand.

I narrowed my search.

If he could taste my blood then he could find me.

Running out of time, I perused my remaining options.

1, lay down, curl up and cry. 2, play dead. Or 3, run like hell.

The kennel owner glanced at me oddly.

From the way he glared at me I could tell he wasn't comfortable with my presence.

So I added onto my strangeness by splashing mud all over my face.

They asked about a duck on my head and I responded, "What duck?"

Then I looked up and there it was. The duck.

Not a real duck, of course, but a charming paint-by-number painting of one above the cages.

But then the duck panting became real. It started howling like a wolf! Then it flew at me and bit my ear off.

Amazingly, none of these unusual events deterred me from my quest, and soon I was going home with a dog. A Black dog, exactly as was required.

But then my dog slowly turned into a duck. So I had to go back to the kennel.

After revisiting the kennel to exchange the "duck" for my original black dog, I longed to go home and rest.

I had been up for 2 days straight, and was in desperate need of sleep.

But the duck on the bed post wouldn't let me sleep.

I let the duck out back and pondered what I would name my dog...

Now, I have to admit, I'm a huge Horror film fan, so my first inspiration came from the genre. Freddy? Michael? Jason? Great names, yes, but somehow they seemed kind of cliche, not to mention none of those names fit this beast in the least.

For now, I felt just "Friend" would do. I didn't really have any and this gentle giant seemed.....well, it just fit.

Now, in my nursing home room-for-one, gazing past my food tray of tater tots, I looked out the window...

The leaves were turning. My favorite time of year.

The signs of another approaching autumn made me smile softly. Funny, I thought, almost every life changing event I'd experienced had happened in the fall. I glanced down at my new canine friend and said..

::: my apologies for using a few more sentences than I should. It's just been so much fun, ya know. I'll limit myself from now on

MY GOD YOU'RE TURNING INTO A DUCK!

Shaking away the illusions... with my new dog, I can now plan my escape!

And I had barely a month to come up with a successful plan.

Thirty days, PLUS ONE, may be the trip down the hall no one is ready for... so I'm going to be ready to leave much earlier than that!

But the duck crapped all over the kitchen floor. So my plan was foiled.

I decided I must take Harvey, my duck friend, with me as well.

Harvey seemed to like that. He started quacking happily.

My room remains locked at night. Should I steal a key, or try a window escape?

But then I remembered that Harvey at all of the key in the house, and nailed all the windows down. He also managed to brick up all the doors.

Harvey does his work when I'm asleep...

Harvey was a little bastard, I wanted to kill him and then eat him.

So, I did.

I decided to make a rope of my sheets and blankets to climb down three floors; but how would I bring my dog?