[pshrynk]

Vera wriggled her hands in the ropes that bound her. They were fairly well tied, but the assailant had failed to figure in his victim being double jointed. Shifting a bit one way, then another, she worked her arms out from behind her back to in front. She then attacked the ropes with her teeth. Someone was going to regret getting up that morning. Possibly even being born altogether.

The truck bounced down the road to whatever destination it was headed.


In front of the Ice Plant, Harv was trying to get his head around the idea of a talking dog. "So, you just woke up one day and could talk?"

"Sort of. I was tied to a lab bench, if that's helpful."

"But you could talk?"

"Listen, pretty boy, I woke up and I could talk. There weren't any alarms going off. No lightning bolts. No manaical laughter. No deformed assistant. Wait, I tell a lie! The assistant was rather goofy looking, come to think of it. And there was Dr Montsnmags, looking all proud of himself. A simple story, when you think about it." Vivaldi wondered at the fact that that had been his longest speech in his life to date. He was really getting the hang of this communication thing.

"But you can talk."

"And I can also bite you where you mean it! Could you let me off this leash? I'm thirsty!"

Harv reached down and absently skritched Vivaldi behind the ears. A piece of bacon from his breakfast fell out of his shirt pocket. He undid the clasp on the leash, muttering, "Having someone on a leash is a terrible thing."

Vivaldi, who had been poised to, essentially, rabbit off, was struck by the situation. Bacon. Skritch. Anti-leash. Human. He was suddenly aware of being "owned." The curse of all dogdom. "Bugger!"