The Attack

Don’t let the stone face expression fool you. If you look closely enough, you can see the fear, however slight, making it’s way from my eyes. When this wild beast came upon me yesterday I had to rely on my experience, knowledge, and most of all, my will to survive.

In only moments, I assessed the identity of this oncoming beast. His piercing teeth, wolf like gait, blond fur extending to his curly tail, not to mention his colouring around the neck – this could be none other than a Polka Dot Collared Blond Forest Hound.

My only chance was to think quickly, and act even faster. I knew the beast could only be subdued by falling to the ground, mimicking it’s young, to force the animal’s instinct. Luckily, I knew that the puppy of this legendary canine sounded like a high pitched shrieking child, so I cried out, wrapping myself to protect my vulnerable organs. But alas, the beast did leave it’s mark.

As much as I tried to sound like a small child screaming out, screeching in higher and higher pitches, he was on to me. Sadly, I was doomed by my own capabilities, as I couldn’t muster up the sounds of a child young enough. My pure manliness meant I could only sound as young as a teenage girl screaming at a concert. I didn’t have a chance. This animal has a tongue 10 times wetter than a human’s, and he used all it’s power, all around my neck and hands.

The horror. The horror. The horror.

I was sticky for like 10 minutes after the beast’s merciful exit. A stickiness that will forever remind me of this cold-blooded attack.