Sunday, 10 April 2011

The dog was a blur in the distance, zig-zagging horizontally and vertically, up then down across the landscape.

 "See Spot!" Max exclaimed excitedly.

 I nodded. I didn't know if Max was asking me if I saw spot or telling me that I saw, so I just nodded. You can tell by the lack of question mark that it was a statement, but I had no such luxury. You grammar Nazis.

 "See Spot Run!" Max continued.

 I nodded again. I could see Spot run.

 "Run Spot, Run!" Max yelled happily.

 I squinted into the distance. Something wasn't right here.

 "You sure that's Spot? He looks older, and more... Yellow..."

 "Nah, it must be." Besides," Max replied, "He looks more... Yeller..."

 "And he's kinda frothing... at the mouth."

"Ah, yes." Max replied. "Yea, that's not good, is it?"

"No," I replied as we looked on in horror. The re-animated, frenzied corpse of Old Yeller bore down on us, picking up speed with every passing second.

 See Max.
 See Max Run.
 For Fuck's Sake Max, Run Faster.
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