Mort Rainy felt relief as he stirred his corn. He wore his favourite
smelly, old robe and scratched the top of his dishevelled hair. No one
could touch him now. He moved towards his desk, musing on how easily he'd
rid his life of the people he hated. He did miss his dog though; Mort
scowled at Shooter's hat, there'd been no need for taking him! He sat at
his desk and reached for a cigarette, looking around to make sure nobody
saw him and then chuckled as he realised he was alone. He was alone.
He was alone ... wasn't he?
A shadow moved across the wall behind him, by the flickering of the firelight. Oblivious to any movement, Mort puffed away, until he heard a faint scratching outside. "Don't bother getting up, it's probably just some kids" murmured Shooter. "How long have you been here?!" Mort flinched. "Long enough" The scratching seemed to be getting louder as the intruder approached the house. Mort felt a shiver run down his spine, he opened his mouth and clicked his stubbly jaw. The cigarette fell, unnoticed, to his feet. Shooter moved to the door and as he opened it, a howling black fur-ball burst into the room. Mort stared in disbelief as his dead mutt watched him with its glazed eyes. Mort imitated a goldfish and finally managed to utter .... "but ... you're dead!" The dog began to snarl menacingly at Mort as it ambled towards him, dragging its lame back leg and leaving a bloody trail behind it. Mort backed away slowly. Shooter seemed impervious and snapped at the dog, "Hey! I thought I told you to 'BEAT IT'"; the dog whimpered sheepishly. It turned back to Mort and growled a deathly growl. The dog finally decided to lunge at Mort. As he leapt into the air, the scene moved in slow motion. Mort looked on, too terrified to move. As he felt the impact of the dog landing on his neck he saw the fire his cigarette had started, spreading to the beams in the ceiling, consuming the house.
Mort Rainy perished in the fire along with John Shooter and the half- crazed, mutant- zombie dog. Rumour has it that a cursed cornfield has taken over that patch of land now.
He was alone ... wasn't he?
A shadow moved across the wall behind him, by the flickering of the firelight. Oblivious to any movement, Mort puffed away, until he heard a faint scratching outside. "Don't bother getting up, it's probably just some kids" murmured Shooter. "How long have you been here?!" Mort flinched. "Long enough" The scratching seemed to be getting louder as the intruder approached the house. Mort felt a shiver run down his spine, he opened his mouth and clicked his stubbly jaw. The cigarette fell, unnoticed, to his feet. Shooter moved to the door and as he opened it, a howling black fur-ball burst into the room. Mort stared in disbelief as his dead mutt watched him with its glazed eyes. Mort imitated a goldfish and finally managed to utter .... "but ... you're dead!" The dog began to snarl menacingly at Mort as it ambled towards him, dragging its lame back leg and leaving a bloody trail behind it. Mort backed away slowly. Shooter seemed impervious and snapped at the dog, "Hey! I thought I told you to 'BEAT IT'"; the dog whimpered sheepishly. It turned back to Mort and growled a deathly growl. The dog finally decided to lunge at Mort. As he leapt into the air, the scene moved in slow motion. Mort looked on, too terrified to move. As he felt the impact of the dog landing on his neck he saw the fire his cigarette had started, spreading to the beams in the ceiling, consuming the house.
Mort Rainy perished in the fire along with John Shooter and the half- crazed, mutant- zombie dog. Rumour has it that a cursed cornfield has taken over that patch of land now.