I Hope This was a Dream by Tom Horonzy This Sentence Starts The Story contest entry |
There was a knock on the door ... in the dead of night, the witching hour, which for you who don't know, is midnight. I had been fast asleep, but an insistent rapping awakened me.
Somewhat irritated, the barrage got the best of me. My warm feet touched the cold floor but only for a step, for I stumbled over a cat, causing me to hit my knee on a night table before losing further balance to fall upon my dog, who I thought had been resting in the den.
I responded with an incoherent yelp and a choice word or two. The dog howled. I mused. Was it cussing, as well? I arose from the floor and resumed my trek to the door. Who in the hell would be knocking at such an ignominious hour? The cops? Did they have a warrant? More likely a drunk, or smiling, I thought, a lady in distress, undressed. Taking one last step, my peepers peeped through the peephole and didn't see a thing. Neither did my ears hear any peeps. Could the intruder be a dwarf or, worse, a gnome, goblin, or leprechaun? I thought, "Have no fear; Superdog is here." That is dog's given name. I felt sure he would defend our turf. Therefore, upon opening the door, I was surprised to have my heroic dog take flight and run past a quite short man and team member of Animal Control who claimed said dog was peeping into my neighbor's bedroom window lecherously looking at her voluptuous French Poodle, Princess. Standing aghast in my boxer shorts, what little I had to say, as the man ran away after the accused, was "Her dog is a hussy." I then closed the door and returned to bed. My dog never returned home, and soon after Princess went missing.
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Tom Horonzy
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