The suspect thought perhaps he could sneak in some ribs without detection. "But look. The meat's just falling off the bone," he said, holding up some gray, greasy, glisteny hunks of hog. I guess hog. I don't know. The dogs could care less. They smell blood.
He is a brave man. He is surrounded from all points. These troops can be quite persuasive. They have ways. And means.
He tries to fight them off. They are teflon. Immune, they bounce back. This attempt, and others following, is futile. He will end up surrending the meat. The dogs emerge, victorious. I enjoy a grapefruit.
3 comments:
Great horror photo series!
When you have dogs you always need to have some means of escape from in front of the stove to the cellar.
Both of my shelties have mastered the vulcan mind-meld,so the violence level is low. I just come to wondering what happened to the meat.
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