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Grimm's Fairy Tales - Chapter 1: A Scamp's Rabid End

Disclaimer

If the gory death of some of your favorite Disney characters is not something you wish to read than turn away now but if you ever had to ask yourself why the good guys always have to win in the end or why the bad ones lose just because their bad well this is your story. I don't know if I'll be writing like this again but like they say "if you can't find the story you want. Write it yourself. You'll be happy you did." Thank you and Happy Halloween!

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A red moon shone on that late October night, something was in the air, whispers carried on a the Eastern wind, sung messages of coming thunder and storm. A black Doberman lay sleeping, lonely, amid a pile of junk, his head lay flat on a torn throw pillow. Nothing was the same anymore for this stray canine, since the day they had all gone, leaving him to rot alone in the pits of the local junkyard, angry and un-consoled.

In the sky a black bat flew alone, its wings sharp against the crimson moon, flying in irregular and strange circles, a bleat of pain screeching from its lungs. It flew in its isolation and it flew in its hunger, for the bat had gone deaf, its brain long destroyed by what it cared within its veins.

In the late evening an old man, and a passing milk lorry driver had tossed the man's broken radiator still warm and hissing from the man's burst engine, into the yard, and the lonely doberman found what solace and companionship he could in its residual heat. But now deep into the night, the old radiator squeaked and shifted as the cold wind cascaded over its movable parts, its heat long died away, leaving the sleeping Doberman who had cuddled with the metal for warmth, now shivering in the night, as yet another companion abandoned him.

As the bats altitude degraded, its ears bent forward in one last attempt at finding safe passage or food, the echoing sounds off a multitude of buildings and light poles, passed by like fading stars. As a fenced clearing echoed the last dieing clicks from the bats screeching throat, a squeak of the radiator merged into it and the bat scrambled in confusion, as its ears shut for the final time and it fell blind to its surroundings, deaf to its threats, and crashed into the dobermans radiator with clang and clatter, before falling onto the warm back of the sleeping Doberman. Now blind, deaf and nearly dead, its wings flapped, its claws scratched and its fangs sank into flesh.

Buster's eyes erupted from their slumber, but it wasn't to the sound of his radiator crashing to the junkyard floor, or the distant roll of thunder, but of pain, of unidentifiable pain in the back of his neck where he felt his blood run hot then cold, his eyes dilated in their hollows, his heart began to boil in his chest and he howled...

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Three brown streaks shot through a little Victorian house, along a quiet street. It was followed closely by a blur of gray, as Scamp raced as fast as his legs would allow after his three sisters. Barking as fast and loud as his lungs could bellow.

Danielle, Colleen and Annette had bitten him in the rear, just as he had finished his bath from Jim Dear, already distempered, his sisters antics had driven him into a whirlwind of furry and as rounded a corner of the small house, his wet feet slipped on the hardwood floors and was sent careening out of control into the coffee table.

A pot filled with geraniums wobbled atop the assaulted furniture before careening down directly onto the once clean pup, and enticing a solid yelp from the 6 month old.

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Tramp and Lady had been dozing on that pleasant fall evening when the sounds of Jim Dears screaming and cursing mixed with an aggressive scolding of their only sons name, had woken them from the late evening slumber.

"Ohh not again." Tramp groaned his frustration with the little whelp, as he lay warm next to his mate.

"Go get him please..." Lady moaned into the blankets of their bed not even shuttering an eye. The day had been warm but a cold front was coming in that night and the heating wasn't yet turned on for that particular household.

"Ahh Pigg, why do I have to get him?" Tramp groaned refusing to move from his comfort.

"Cause you're his father." Lady retorted, amid the ambient angry sounds of Jim Dear's voice and now Darling's consolations on how it would be completely inappropriate to make bath shoes out of Juniors favorite puppy.

With a sigh and a stretch, Tramp got up from the bed basket from which he and Lady lay.

"Save my place." He said but Lady was already back asleep.

Tramp smiled in his usual way and walked out the bedroom door.

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"OUCH! DAADDD!" Scamp scowled as he was carried off into the back yard by the scruff of his neck.

"Shrrry!" Tramp mumbled through a mouth full of fur. Perhaps he was getting too big for this kind of treatment thought Tramp as he carried him out back for the night, for Jim Dear to deal with in the morning.

As they neared the dog house in the back yard, Tramp set down his miniature self and proceeded to clean him of the dirt that had befallen him.

"Why can't you learn to be more careful son?" as Tramp began his scolding between his lickings.

"But it wasn't my fault! Danielle and Colleen they..."

"I don't want to hear excuses, only apologies" Tramp interrupted as he washed the grey pup with his tongue.

"But! "

"Have you not learned anything these past few weeks?" Tramp stopped his licking for the moment.

Scamp lay quiet as he contemplated just how to answer his father's question. He decided to change the subject.

"Can I see Angel now?"

Tramp groaned out of slight awkwardness, for Angel had gone into a rather early heat and Jim Dear

and Darling had decided to separate the two pups until Scamp was old enough to be "taken care of" so to speak. But explaining this to Scamp would probably be too difficult without bringing up the whole dreaded conversation of "the birds and the bees." In the mean time Tramp had just told him that Angel had "contracted the fleas".

Tramp gazed at the second dog house across the yard. The sun had finally set and the moon had begun to rise, though the reddish hue of it startled Tramp just slightly.

"I think she's sleeping Scamp, maybe tomorrow."

With that he continued his licking over Scamp's soiled fur. Bathing him as he grew so accustomed too over the few months of his young life, He ran his tongue over his face and head before rolling him over on to his back to clean his underbelly. He licked and licked until he felt a little nub brush against his velvety tongue. Surprised at what he had just felt. Tramp gazed to see the bright crimson tip of his pup's young penis, protruding into the night. Perhaps this conversation would begin sooner than he thought it would. He felt his son's small scrotum with his paw and digits, to see if they had finally dropped within snipping distance of the family vet,

With a gentle brush and fondling Tramp discovered that Scamp's jewels had indeed nestled into their places, yet perhaps they still didn't work. Deciding to find out the only way he knew how, with a single gentle lick he pulled the sheath completely away from Scamp's young tool.

As the smooth red thing popped into the open air, Scamp gave a soft moan, confused over what was happening to him.

With a gentle shift Tramp put a paw over Scamp's eyes to shield him from understanding fully his own situation. It was better that way Tramp thought with his subsequent lick's over the belly and groin of his only son, he had played with many bitches, dogs, even pups over the years but never had he played with his Scamp. Truly a Tramp by nature and if Pigg ever found out what he was now doing he would be in the doghouse for good.

As he suckled the tender flesh he couldn't help but think that it was his flesh as well so to speak, and he peaked out of his own sheath and into the night.

"Wha... What are you doing?" Scamp struggled to see what was going on down below his waist.

But Tramp kept silent, his paw holding tightly to his face and with a soft pop, slipped the pup's grape sized knot between the digits of his paw.

Tramp watched as the saliva soaked shaft shimmered bright red in the moonlight. He couldn't see any veins in it like he could his own and seriously questioned whether or not this was good for the little tyke. But Tramp had a name to live up too. With a wet slurp, Tramp had sucked the two inch member fully in his maw, wrapping it in the warmth of his long, flat tongue.

Scamp had gasped at the sudden heat surrounding a part of his body he barely even know he had and as if Junior was scratching him behind his ear Scamp's leg kicked and twitched with each rendered sensation.

Tramp sucked on the tender thing, wrapping and unwrapping it with his tongue while nibbling at the tip with his fangs till he could feel at the hard bone beneath the red flesh, flesh softer and smoother

than any he had ever known. He felt Scamp leg thump against his neck, heard the jingle of his tags and finally saw the contractions of his grape sized balls as they curled in their sac.

Scamp whined as his whole body shuddered and writhed in the throes of his first orgasm, much like the way he first writhed when he was born from his mother Tramp thought. He saw his sons back arch, his teeth clench and his legs stiffen as his small penis twitched in his maw.

But nothing came of it.

Tramp felt Scamp relax from the high of his dry orgasm. As Scamp slumped back to the ground and his paws stopped thrashing in the air. Tramp let the wet thing slip from his muzzle and rolled the kids sheath back over his little toy. He would have to try again another night.

"All clean!" Tramp said as he removed the paw from Scamp's eyes.

"What, really?" Scamp questioned has he rolled onto his stomach before standing up.

"Yep! Having a bath isn't so bad now is it you little twerp?" Tramp goaded at him, till he saw him smile.

"So now what? Jim Dear's still mad at me I suppose." Scamp looked at the ground downtrodden yet again.

Tramp looked at him for but a moment before looking at the doghouse across the yard, the white picketed gate that led to the streets and the red shining moon growing higher and higher into the night.

Then Tramp smiled a scoundrel's smile and thought it would be nice to take him out for a little adventure of their own, just the two of them.

"Come on!" Tramp said as galloped to the gate of the yard.

With one swift motion of the nose the gate latch was slipped from its sockets and the gate creaked open.

"Are you ready for Scamp's Adventure, part two?" Tramp chided with a gentle grin.

Scamp looked up at his father with blank confusion as he approached the open gate "But dad I thought we weren't...?"

"Ahh let's forget the rules for once, besides you're with me!" With that Tramp pushed the youngling out of the gate with his paw. As they both exited the yard, Scamp began to smile and Tramp flicked at the gate behind him, he had things for Scamp to see and do, and things for him to learn too... things he couldn't do at home. And with that both he and Scamp bounded into the night,

As the pair scampered out down the street, the lights of the house began to die as the home went to sleep for the night a sleep that Lady had yet to wake from. In Tramp's place in the bed now lay his three daughters, snug and warm against their mother. Unaware of where their father and brother where headed that night.

From a small doghouse across the yard, a great howling was heard a howling that the golden Pomeranian knew all too well. She gazed out of the doghouse from her restless sleep toward two figures running into the night. She saw as the night grew colder and the wind blew harder that the gates hook had failed to hook and merely bounced against its latch.

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"DADDD!" Scamp screamed in despair as he watched as Tramp's green collar and golden tag fall to the ground with an echoing "tink!" It was quickly followed by Tramp's body... dead, his throat torn open in a bloody rain.

It had happened so suddenly that fateful night. As the father and son duo walked down the same old alleyway of their past they were stalked by a ruined dog. Whose mind now lay in shambles and his body carried death in its veins. When Buster had finally crossed their path his eyes were bloodshot, foam poured from his mouth and he had revenge in his heart. His father told him to run... but he didn't, he was frozen by fear of the dog he once idolized. Is father had told him to run again! But he didn't and in response Tramp had been forced to fight the rabid Doberman. A fight he fought hard... and lost.

Buster's heavy paw now pressed down on Scamp's head, driving his face harder into the ground of the wet scum filled alleyway, he lowered his head and cackled in his ear. Scamp watched in horror as his fathers Adam's apple fell out of his foamy snarl bloody and raw. He growled a raspy growl his ability to speak long dead.

"What did you do?" Scamp whimpered, virgin to the mere thought of death and mortality.

Buster cackled as he gazed at the corpse of his dead rival with appreciation and contempt.

Buster grinned with torn lips but said nothing, his fight with the old dog had been ruthless but the considerable damage Tramp had inflicted in his fight just would not register on his rabid brain.

Buster's gaze turned back to his own gaping stomach, his intestines hung loosely out of his abdomen wounds sustained from his fight.

It would be his fatal wound if the rabies didn't get to him first.

"DAD... please get up!" The pleading voice of the grey mass below him soon brought Buster back from his savory memory. Buster almost chuckled at the heartbreaking ignorance that young pup's still possessed.

He had seen his sire's glossy eyes and gaping maw, and his heaving, gurgling chest yet could not believe that him to lose and expected a victorious rally in his fight. Scamp hoped, but it was not to be for the young pup, Tramp's glossy eyes only faded to a gentle blankness, his lulling tongue grew paler, and his heaves and gurgles slowed to just a methodical treble leaving his only son completely alone to his fate under the paws of a rabid Doberman Pincher, ten times his size.

He starred in disbelieve now, as his eyes began to water, Buster only grinned from the grey pup to the corpse he had just made. His gaze turned back toward the grey pup below him, Scamps teary eyes never left that of his fathers own as Tramps blood continued to pool into a large puddle of black liquor.

With a growl and heave Buster picked up Scamp by the scruff of his neck and carried him over to where his father lay dead and slammed him into the puddle of red. Buster placed his paw on the pups head making sure his stomach was pressed flat against the ground his cream colored face and belly soaking in the warm blood. Scamp yelped in pain at the hard and wet impact before finding himself now parallel to his father's dead eyes.

Buster hacked and coughed as he dropped the grey pup. The rabies was advancing, he felt hot, the thirst plagued him, the hunger taunted him, and the lust... Buster shook his head his vision blurring for but a second, but in that time Scamp had managed scamper a few feet away. With ferocious anger much greater than the sin itself, the rabid Doberman jumped on the yelping, fleeing pup snapping his jaws onto a hind leg and dragging him back through what was fast becoming a lake of blood. Scamp struggled vainly to get his face out of the pool. His fur already soaked in red, ruined yet again.

Yet his father would not be there to clean him this time the poor pup started to whimper as his shoulder cracked under the weight of the heavy Doberman. Buster looked for a second at the dog beside him and with grim malice and contempt for him and what he created, he snapped his jaws to Scamps right forepaw and with such unforgiving force pulled it around his back to where the ball of the shoulder popped free from its socket, dislocating it around Scamps lower back. The little canine howled in agony as his right side collapsed face first onto the blood drenched pavement. But his cries were only answered by the organic snap of his other forepaw twisted around his back.

"Bbbbuster?.." Scamp whimpered.

Scamp's face and chest now ground deeply in red, tears of complete despair soon poured down his cheeks and rippled in the dark red pool that surrounded him, casting in his eyes the reflection of his present... and his perhaps his future as well

Buster's anger soon eased with the immense heat in his head. In its place his head throbbed and mouth frothed with whitish foam.

For a moment he reverted to the Doberman he once was, a junkyard dog... a thief... a stray, but never anything more than a bad example, until that demonic bat flew into head on that fateful night, unleashing in him all the savageness of wolves, the uncontrollable desire to kill... feed... rape. To tear limb from limb and heart from body, every sting of resentment present in his soul before his suffering now became an open wound of pure, riving hatred.

The fear of pain and the pain of fear emptied away with the veins of his rabid blood, leaving him ruthless and incorrigible, a perpetual slave to all but the most basic instincts of his brain, were the bat now beat its wings.

Buster backed away slowly from the pup he had just so brutally mangled as he had gone blind for but a moment, he shook his head again, the methodic noise buzzing in his head like distant bees. But his sight soon returned and his eyes, red with fire looked at the mangled pup in front of him and the pooling blood from the dog he had killed.

With a ferocious snarl and growl Buster dove for the water that he saw and drank with wild abandon.

Scamp lay helpless as he watched Buster lapping at the blood pooled on the ground. The air was cold and the blood was cooling fast. When Buster tongue accidentally lathed over Scamps little muzzle, a grin crossed his black face that night, for he had tasted the essence of Tramp smeared on the pup's muzzle, an amusing clue to what had occurred between he and Tramp before Buster had stumbled upon their path. Tramp really did live up to his namesake in a perverted sense.

His raspy breathing grew quicker and an erection slowly built on the Doberman's underbelly. In a moment his rabid sense of thought was restored and the pup's fate underneath his paws was sealed.

Scamp's courage returned in its slimmest of forms for but a flash as he let out a weak growl from his little throat. Buster chuckled at the pups lame attempt at deterrence. He put a paw on the back of Scamps head and brought his muzzle to Scamps ear and with the gentleness of mothers peeled his ear off his skull with heated fangs, the sounds of tearing flesh music to his own ears.

Scamp screamed as he was being torn apart, almost passing out from pain. Almost.

That mercy was taken from him as his eyes widened and teeth gritted together. A small amount of the virus entered his body through the bite.

Buster's grin grew wide once again as he chewed the strip of flesh, and watched the little whelp twitch and convulse as the pup reacted to its slightly rabid bite, Buster knew what it was that burned within him now, that it was enough to keep is body rigid, to set every vein and nerve on fire with every feeling or touch, that his heart would now pound ever faster and harder making it impossible for the pup to sleep and even harder to die.

As he swallowed his fleshy meal, Buster walked slyly around behind Scamp, his little rear sticking in the air not yet covered in red.

Buster decided Scamp's complete infection would be delivered another way.

Scamp eyes tried to track the black Doberman as he passed around behind him afraid of what else might be bitten off, of being blind from the coming tortures envisioned for him in Buster's haywire brain, but to the pup such precautions were in terrible vain, as Scamp failed to notice the now engorged red shaft hanging out of the Doberman's sheath as he passed behind him, or even... for what it would be was used for.

Scamp noticed two legs stepping over his form from behind and he watched and yelped as they forcefully drew back and grasped him round his small midsection, into the groove of his hips. With an evil smile Buster slammed his weight down upon Scamp's grey back and broken legs, enjoying the feeling of the pup squirming in pain under his ninety pound bulk. Scamp could feel Busters entrails hanging from his belly as it ground against him. Buster let the pup adjust for a moment amused over the reactions he was showing, he seemed afraid but Busters instinct told him that if Scamp really knew what was about to happen to him... inside him, he figured the pup would have been much, much more afraid.

With a gentle motion and a soft caress Buster brought his muzzle to Scamp's last twitching ear. He could hear his sobs but Busters grin turned into a menacing smile unlike anything he'd done before, even when killing Tramp. For now, Buster finally knew all of what he was about to take away from a 6 month old pup... Buster positioned himself so that the tip of his member rested at Scamp's completely relaxed hole, As Scamp finally started to squirm. He clamped down once more with even greater force stifling the pup's movements just as soon as they'd begun. Play time was over for the little whelp and now it was his turn.

He grasped the pup in the grove of his hips and placed his tip of his bone at the pups hole, three times too small, he knew he wouldn't fit but he also knew he didn't have too. Buster lowered his head to Scamp's, and with a lick on his grey and blooded head drove himself unrestrained into the puppy beneath him, stealing his cherry just as he had stolen his father life. Scamp wailed unlike anything the world ever heard, a bleat that no pup should ever make. Scamp tried to run, as fast as could even as two of his legs lay broken behind his back, his back legs and feet clawed at the ground beneath like some kind of cartoon to no avail. Grooves from the puppy's nails marked the black asphalt till they broke and snapped off making long thin bloody streaks where they scratched. Buster humped with erratic thrusts as he watched the little grey thing blur and scream beneath him, He knew he had ruined the pup as soon as he had entered him, He felt his hole collapse with half of his length, full inches of Scamp's intestines tore away from their surroundings and split, inch for every inch that was fed into them.

Scamp screamed.

The warmth of the pups innards was intoxicating to the big Doberman. The extreme heat brought on by the raping only added to the heat caused by the virus, creating hallucinations of euphoria in his slowly dying brain.

Scamp's cries of agony echoed in the alleyways up into the night only serving to attract the only other thing that was there to listen and afterward to feed. The rats.

Buster slid his paw slowly under the pup's stomach to pry at Scamp's little sheath, who's erection was only pulled into view by pressure of Buster digits around the two inch member. He groped at the immature sac that held his family's last living jewels.

Buster's thrusts and length soon met an impasse however. The pup's own innards had already contoured and distended to their limit, bleeding heavily, organs churned and tore away from their places with the Doberman's rapid fucking. He felt his penis catch on the pup's immature prostate and cords.

With his knot on the verge of penetration, Buster slowed for but a moment, to flip the impaled pup over onto his back. Now Scamp stared directly into the eyes of his doom. Bloodshot and dead of the soul he once knew.

Buster stared for awhile at the supine youth beneath him, he watched his face contort in pain as he thrusted forward feeling his innards twist and snap, the small bone in Scamp's penis snapped between the digits of his Buster's paws as he pushed himself through.

Scamp howled in agony as he felt his own testicles pull from his sac and fall loosely into his lower body, as Buster drove himself through Scamps prostatic wall and into his stomach, the blood red length moving through him, like a demon feeding within him.

Buster panted hard as he heard the higher pitched wails from the pup he add just inadvertently neutered, but continued with thrust after thrust, the Doberman pounded in a frenzy of rabidity and unnatural lust and bloodlust. With one final push, the Doberman felt and watched his own knot pop into the body of the 8 pound mutt, popping his rear legs out of their sockets spearing into pups heaving chest while the knot expanded adding to the rifts in the pup's abdomen through which entire organs fell out on to the ground.

Buster came.

Buster snarled as he felt his balls contract under his tail sending the first waves of seed churning up the length of his shaft and onto the array of little organs surrounding the tip which buffeted directly against the pups fluttering heart.

Buster's paws smashed Scamp harder into the ground. But it didn't matter anymore. As the infected seed shot within him, Scamp was paralyzed where he lay. He felt every pulse of Buster's flaring tip, every splash impact his beating little heart that in turn sent the infection to his every nerve ending and cell in his body as the billions of rabid sperm swam into his open veins, he felt as if he was set on fire from the inside out.

Buster panted in completion and watched on in silence as the heaves within the pup's chest no longer came from the pup's strong pulse but instead the pulse from his continuing orgasm. The pup's eyes were rolled and his tongue lolled out of his mouth in shock as he watched and felt the pup near his end after enduring so much pain and torture.Buster grinned as he watched Scamp's eyes widen when his veins finally delivered the infection into his little brain, an event which would render even the kindest of dogs to complete and utter ferocity or killed them trying.

Scamp's head split in tremendous heat, he hadn't known pain let alone such agonizing torture such as this. Scamp snarled as he began to change into what Buster was, had he let him, but his life was Busters to take and as his maw envelope his grey head, he felt his fangs scrap against his skull.

Scamp remained lucid, when with a flick of his maw Buster twisted Scamps head to the reverse, and the resounding Snap! echoed off the grimmy walls of the alleyway.

Scamp's last scream was merely a mental as the shattered bones of his neck tore into his throat and voice box cutting off his final howl of pain, the web of blood that sprayed across the cold asphalt and over Tramp's dead face and chest.signalled the end.

His death upon him, Scamps eyes twitched, his teeth clenched, while his body wriggled in death as it had wriggled in birth. But Buster's maw still held tightly, and he wouldn't let go until he finished draining the life out of the young pup, just as he had drained "his life" into the pup.

Even though being as young as he was, Scamp knew this was finally his end, his final moments being inexplicably tied in every sensual way to the rabid Doberman above him, around him, inside him. He knew that the crazy eyes of the dog he had at one time admired would be the last thing he would see. The loud huffs and climaxing snarls the last he would hear. The noxious smell of the Junkyard dog's foamy breathes would be last he would smell. The flaring of Buster's penis skewered through the length of his small body, the last he would feel. And as his eyes rolled back in his head, and his hearing turned to deafness In a moment Scamp exhaled his final breathe, and the Doberman's thick seed gurgled out with it, it's salty taste his last sensation of the world of the living, before consciousness left him and his soul was sent screaming into the netherworld.

Buster removed his hold and now stood still as he looked down at the dead pup, confused, as if it were a broken toy. He saw the broken limps, the torn flesh and the grotesque twisting of Scamp's body as it lay prone on the ground with its forelimbs and head twisted to the reverse giving the impression of a supine corpse..

The rabid dog was quickly dyeing now he would be dead by morning he knew he could no longer tell where he was or what he was, and as rats ran to the dead pup to nibble at the corpse. Buster lunged and sank his teeth into the vermin.

A clattering of fence and wire was heard at the entrance to the alleyway further down, someone was coming and the Doberman jumped and snarled at the sounds he could not catch. Scamp's body flipped into the air with his standing, still skewered through on the Doberman. Blood, guts and semen cascaded out of the gaping maw of the upturned pup. The Doberman walked the length of the alleyway back towards it's one way entrance. As the large Doberman reached the corner of the alleyway he suddenly turned to face what was headed down.

Scamp's corpse finally fell from Buster's shaft as his entrails coiled out of him.

Eyes met familiar eyes. And grin met complete horror.

"Why..., hello... my girl!"

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A lonely bulldog strayed into the dark shadow of a San Francisco building carrying but a single book, not a moment after the phone rang on a desk in the middle of the room, and as the bulldog place the book the desk and picked up the receiver, red smoke funneled from its end.

"It's finished!" replied the bulldog the sounds of the receiver inaudible.

"...I have the paper right here! 3 Dogs Butchered by Rabid Doberman. Nice ring to it don't ya thi...!" The bulldogs laughed. But the receiver shouted, a tenacious screech.

"...Oh yes boss, I have the book too! Belladonna did a fine job!"

Distant mummers of sirens screamed in the night.

"...But he's dead Boss! Eventually went crazy and tried to run down a dump truck! Head got smashed!"

The bulldog grimaced as more shouts roared over the phone.

"...Don't worry boss! Plan two is already in action, 100 dead, just like you said, only one got away!" The bulldog said his played with a small red collar on the desk before yelping in mild fright at the receiver's replying roar.

"...Boss we'll get him don't worry. How lucky could he be! He'll be in Limbo by tomorrow!"

The room soon filed with gentle laughing, and grew louder and louder till the lights dimmed with a unnatural power.

"...Dumbmutt won't be a problem! I killed him once you know!"

The bulldog began his hysterical laugh.

"...Please don't worry Boss... he will be in your paws by Halloween." The bulldogs cackled.

And with that, a growl purred over the line, the phone heated in reddish hue before the stocky bulldog hung up the receiver.

With that the bulldog picked up a nearby sack full of small collar and tags. He dropped his trinket into the book as a book mark before jumping from the seat of the desk and walking out.

The creak of the bulldog's exit made the old building shudder in its foundations.

A wall panel blew open with the wind, sending a gust streaming over the Book still laying on the desk in the middle of the room.

Pages upon endless pages streamed by as the wind gusted through its binding. Pictures of every dog there was in the world and every dog there ever will be. For Annabel's stolen Book of Life sat on a dingy desk in the heart of San Francisco. And as the gust of wind died down the collar kept its place and the pages slowly flipped back to reveal Dalmatians and mutts... Tramp's and Scamp's..., Half-wolves, Huskes and Akita's all of which were marked through with X's of red... and as the book slowly flipped to its marked page. The glimmering gold tag of the collar shined a dim

light over the one name that had yet to be crossed out.

Charlie B. Barkin...

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Happy Halloween!

-Grimm