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23

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Mort tossed and turned on the couch. He turned to the edge and saw that he was hanging over a waterfall! Shocked at this discovery, he tried to hang on for his life, but slipped and fell off to his doom..

He hit the floor, flustered. It had only been a dream.

Mort pushed back his hair and groaned. He picked up his watch from the table and looked at it. There was something wrong, though. He couldn't see it.

Oh, that's right.. He took his glasses from the table and put them on. Mort pushed his hair back out of his face again and looked at the time. A couple of hours had passed. He stood up and took in a deep breath then he made his way over to the sink and filled a glass of water.

He placed the glass up to his mouth to drink, but noticed something strange... The door leading onto the balcony was open and there was something white on the wall blowing in the wind.

He set the glass down on the counter.

Curious, Mort went up closer to get a better look. He opened the door fully and flipped on the light switch, but the light didn't turn on.

That was strange. He scowled, and went back inside to get a flashlight.

Returning to the doorway with the flashlight, he examined the balcony light and saw that it had been shattered and there was broken glass on the balcony. He moved the flashlight around and looked elsewhere, then he walked over to the garbage bin and moved the beam across the balcony, searching for... he didn't know yet.

Mort approached the white thing that was fluttering in the wind on the wall. It was a note that was attached. Mort shined the flashlight over it and read:

YOU HAve 3 days i am Not JokiNg NO POLICE

He backed away from the note, feeling a mix of anger and confusion. He didn't like the thought of this 'John Shooter' being in or around his hotel room.

He turned away and headed back to the door to go in. As he walked, he passed the garbage bin again. There was something off about it. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but there was something definitely wrong.

On top of the garbage bin, there was a white blanket. It looked like it was covering something. Mort focused the flashlight on it, then turned away, deciding that he didn't want to know what little surprise 'John Shooter' had decided to kindly leave for him along with the note.

But, Mort was a curious one and a curious one liked to know things. No-- Had to know things. Needed to know things. And Mort, being a curious one and all had to go along with his suspicion. So, he turned back to the garbage bin and hesitated for a moment, but then finally pulled off the blanket.

And there, staring up at him lifelessly, was a murdered Chico. A screwdriver protruding from his head. Mort fell away, disturbed intensely.

"Oh! Uh. Ho.. uh..," Mort muttered. He looked at his dead best friend, moved his flashlight all around him, as he breathed heavily.

Mort got to his feet, infuriated, terrified, and depressed all at the same time. "Shooter! I'll get you for this! You hear me? I'll get you for this!" Mort yelled into the night sky. He returned inside and locked every possible entry in his hotel room. Satisfied with what he had done, he stood silently and looked around the room.

The sun was coming up now.

Mort returned onto the balcony, grabbed a nearby shovel. He wrapped his best friend up in the blanket and carried him out into the woods where he had previously had his encounter with John Shooter.

Then he buried the dog in the ground with a shovel. When finished, he stuck the shovel into the ground.