//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: Alone // by Syringed //------------------------------// “Well this can’t get any worse.” I said while falling from the second story window towards my impending doom. Three things were floating around in my head. A: I’m boned. B: This nightmare will hopefully end and I will wake up to the sound of my alarm clock playing Jonny B. Goode. C: I’m so boned either way. Brilliantly done Mom, why aren’t you as paranoid as Dad? I could just see him saying, “Honey! Don’t leave the gardening tools outside overnight! Someone might fall on them and get blood all over the flowers!” I chuckled at my imaginary dad’s paranoid remark. Then I realized that the blood splotch in my head was probably gonna be me. Maybe I should’ve thought of bracing myself for impact instead of making ridi- THUNK Wheel…barrow… ============================================================================================= Pulling one’s self out of a wheelbarrow is not fun. Certainly it would have been easier if blood wasn’t pouring out of my left arm…leg like soda pours out of a soda can somebody shook while doing the Macarena. One experience I would like to forget. I pushed with all my strength, and I think I heard something pop. Ouch. I still managed to push my pathetic self out onto the grass, leaving a trail of blood behind me. I hate life. Surely life must have hated me more. My mom AND my sister came out of the patio wielding a shovel and a rake, respectively. Wow, that must have been the first time I saw my sister hold a landscaping tool. Figures it when she wants to use it on me. Alright you pathetic waste of space, move your butt unless you want to be sushi six feet under! I bolted, ignoring the stinging and the blood dripping down my face. I narrowly avoided a shovel at the left, and a rake to the face, and bolted for the side gate. Wait, how am I supposed to open it? I skidded to a stop and stared up at the giant wooden door standing between me surviving the women, and me getting some. The other kind. I heard battle cries behind me and saw the two pissed off women flinging themselves at me. I ducked. Ducking seems to always work. Just like in those cartoons I used to watch. They flew right over me and obliterated our side gate. See, ducking always works. Hasta la vista bitches! I run over their groaning bodies and bolted down the street. Now if my memory serves me right, there was a little hole in my neighbor’s patio that I used to hide in. I’m pretty sure I hid a few cookies and whatnot in there last time I was in there. That was about…6 years ago? …. I crawled into the little space beneath my neighbor’s white patio. I barely found the entrance between her creepy cat statues and her robe bushes. Man, when was the last time she trimmed those? I crawled in there and burrowed myself into the dirt. Project ‘Get away from my crazy family’ complete! Now time to tend to my wounds. Let’s see…deep cut on left foreleg, minor cut on head, maybe a dislocated knee, and rose thorns in ass. Everything went better than expected. Now about those cookies I hid, I dug into the dirt, and viola! There they were, still in that little plastic baggie I left them in. They were a little moldy, and a few dead bugs were on them, but it’s still a cookie. Down the hatch. ….. Those cookies tasted a little weird, but weren’t all that bad. Hopefully I don’t get tapeworms. Now would be a good time to pull these thorns out of my butt, I remembered seeing dogs licking their hind legs and whatnot using their tongue. Can horses do that? One way to find out. I strained my neck and bent my head all the way back, trying to reach the thorns embedded in my butt. How degrading. I pulled out the first thorn with my teeth, and screamed in pain. One down, another 200 to go. …. I think I fell asleep after thorn 156. Whenever it was, I was awoken by the sounds of a truck pulling up to my house. I poked my head out of my little hidey-hole and plastered on the side of a pick-up truck was ‘ANIMAL CONTROL’. Oh balls. My family sold me out. And the animal control guy was coming towards my little hidey-hole. I was so screwed. The animal control guy put a flashlight at the entrance, and the beam struck my face. There I was, for the entire world to see (not really), about to have my freedom taken away and to be tagged by scientist and locked up at the zoo. I hope the food at the zoo is tasty, and hopefully the kiddies won't try to feed me. Who knows where their little dirty niblets have been. While my panic-induced mind was thinking up wild scenarios, the guy from animal control slipped some kind of leash around my neck, and yanked. My airway was cut off suddenly, and I choked. What kind of animal control was this?! I started turning blue as he pulled me out into the sunlight and lifted me into the air by my neck to show my family. Or ex-family. With the last of my consciousness, I lifted one of my forelegs to show them my displeasure, when I realized I didn’t have any fingers. Fuck you, life. Then I blacked out.