♫I'm not my brother's keeper♫
♫Though we be strong or weaker♫

♫I try to help him but♫
♫It's all he does♫

♫Don't point your finger♫
♫'Cause it's all of us♫

 

Faithful reader and good friend Skye has suggested that I am due for another contest. Two categories this time:

1. Best title. I'll wait until it's done to pick a winner.
2. Best cast for when the Great American Novel becomes a movie. Skye has already suggested the role of Lyle (that's me!) should be played by Antonio Banderas. One vote for Skye for the mind picture of Antonio drinking toilet water.

The winner will receive a full color first edition copy of the novel bound with a real paper clip.

Chapter 22

            Over them loomed a creature that was dog, but yet not dog.  Lyle was transfixed by the sight of its fangs, each one longer than his own tail.  From the creature’s mouth dripped long strings of drool, which landed in huge puddles below.  It lowered its enormous head and sniffed the chair where Lyle had been seated only moments earlier.  Seva, Morgan, and Miss Matches huddled at the far side of the table, momentarily paralyzed with shock.
            “If you don’t mind my saying so,” whispered the maître d', “I’d say that animal looks quite like you, sir.”
            Lyle stared gape-jawed at the monster, then at the maître d'.  He looked back at the monster, cocking his head and squinting his eyes.  Incredible, but true.  Beneath the fangs and rivers of drool, the greenish scaly fur and red-rimmed eyes, the creature had clearly once been devastatingly handsome.
            “It…it…it’s almost like looking into a 50 foot mirror!” exclaimed Lyle.  “I wonder what it wants.”
            Just then the doglike behemoth raised its head and uttered a word.  “B-b-rudder!"

Chapter 23

            “What did it say?” asked Lyle.  “It sounds like it’s just learning to talk.  ‘Udder?’  Maybe it is looking for its mother!  Boy, what a big girl she must be!”
            Back at the table, Miss Matches grabbed her cell phone and Dictaphone.  She dialed the station and spoke excitedly to her producer.  “I’m going to send you a recording in a moment.  I have got the news story of the year standing right in front of me!”  She began speaking into her recorder.  “This is Miss Matches, on location for WGN.  The rumors of a creature terrorizing Chicago are no longer rumors.  Standing directly above me is a monster the likes of which I have seen only in the movies.  He appears to be looking for something, and I have heard him speak.   He said something that sounds like ‘rudder.’  I can only imagine the torment a soul such as this must be enduring.  Clearly he is a creature adrift on a lonely sea with no others of his kind to experience the joys and tragedies of everyday life.  It seems to me that this single word, ‘rudder,’ must represent his lack of direction in life.  Is it this simple steering device he seeks?  This reporter will be on the scene with updates as they happen.”
            Seva turned to Miss Matches with a withering stare.  “Missy, the only thing that soul is looking for is dinner.  I don’t plan to be its next meal, but you are welcome to become a McMatches Happy Meal.”  She grabbed her Prada handbag and stalked off, her stilettos clicking on the pavement.
            “Matches, honey, I really think we should leave,” whispered Princess Morgan.  “I have to agree with Seva on this one.”  She shuddered as the creature leaned in closer.  It snorted, and locked its gaze on her.  Morgan backed away slowly, keeping eye contact with the monster.  “Miss Matches, are you coming?”
            Miss Matches was fumbling with the camera on her phone.  “Wait…just a sec…I need a picture!”  Her phone and recorder went skidding across the table as the creature suddenly reached over and grabbed her with its claws.  Miss Matches screamed as Morgan pounced on the monster’s paw.  “Let her go!” Morgan screamed as she tried to pry apart its vise-like grip.  The claws separated slightly, but as Morgan tried to free Miss Matches, the monster captured them both.  “Lyle!  Help us!” Morgan shouted.  Both dogs cringed as they were lifted from the ground in the crushing grip of the monster. 

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.  I hope I get lots of turkey!  Mmm...turkey!