After all, he hated animals.

He hated all the living beings at that moment.

That fuckers weren't worth their shitty lives.

Who had given them a right to open their mouth?

To say such words to him?

To laugh like they were in a fucking circus?

Was he a fucking clown for them?

Hadn't they watched any horror films?

Clowns were ones of the best killers.

Haven't they been taught to be afraid of a clown?

They were like that dog.

Curious. Stupid. Wagging their tales while it wasn't needed.

And it didn't matter the dog was the first.

He never enjoyed the animal performances in the circus.

Because they thought he was more stupid than that animals. They didn't told him but he knew.

They called him a pig.

But a pig appeared to be not just a fat rasher of bacon.

A pig had a revolver.

A man was approaching him, screaming and using pretty foul language. Probably a master of that dog.

Without any thoughts he pulled the trigger.

Come on, squeal from pain like your dearest doggie.

Now he was a spectator...and he liked a performance.