By Lisa McCourt Hollar
Demons surrounded me, their fingers clutching, nails digging into my flesh in their attempt to devour me. I fight, but there are too many. One creature leans towards me, his mouth opened, saliva dripping from his teeth which were razor sharp. The air from the thing’s maw is hot and sour and I know I am about to be dinner. I close my eyes, waiting for the end to come. Instead, the creature jumps onto my chest, raking its tongue across my face.
“What the hell!” Opening my eyes, I find that I am in my room. Sitting on top of me, drool dangling from his jowls, like long strings of snot, is Lord Rutherford, my St. Bernard, or more accurately, Sally’s St. Bernard. I only inherited him when she decided she needed to find herself and left the two of us to do so.
Lord Ruthie just looks at me, not impressed. Silently he turns and walks into the kitchen and sits by his bowl. The message is clear, if you don’t want me to eat you, then feed me.
“You know, I can always trade you in for a cat.”
Still not impressed, Ruthie yawns, sending more bad breath my way.
“They have better hygiene, you know.”
“Woof.”
“Well, okay, but I’m getting you a toothbrush.”
Word Count: 249
@jezri1
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