♫Things I've never seen before♫
♫Behind bolted doors♫
♫Talent and imagination♫

♫Weird science♫
♫Not what teacher said to do♫
♫Makin' dreams come true♫
♫Living tissue, warm flesh♫

♫Bits of my creation--Is it real?♫
♫It's my creation--I do not know♫
♫No hesitation--No heart of gold♫
♫Just flesh and blood--I do not know♫

♫From my heart and from my hand♫
♫Why don't people understand♫
♫My intentions . . . . Oooh, weird . . . . ♫
♫Weird science!!♫

I just learned that I can't win a Pulitzer unless my story is "news." I have been a news-ance all my life so I figure I'm still in the running. I'm pretty sure all this has happened. I remember it like it was yesterday...

Chapter 6

    “Ye Gods, man, must you sing along to every song?”  Jim Bob the dogcatcher glared at his assistant, who was tunelessly making up his own lyrics to whatever song the radio produced. 
     “Sorry, boss,” the assistant replied, but he didn’t look particularly remorseful.  In fact, he continued to hum Hound Dog while Elvis gave it his best.  “Where we goin’, boss?”
    Jim Bob sighed and spat his toothpick out the window.  “We been getting’ reports of a stray holin’ up in the old MacDonald place.  Gotta git ‘im.”
     Joe Bob, assistant dogcatcher, let out a low whistle.  “Jeepers, boss.  They say that place is a toxic waste dump.  That there stray prob’ly got three eyes!  You sure he needs gittin’?”
    “Yeah, he needs gittin’.  Don’t be goin’ all girly on me, Joe Bob,” Jim Bob replied.  “Alrighty then, here’s the plan,” he announced.  “You go in and search the upstairs first, then downstairs.  I’ll wait by the door and catch ‘im when you flush ‘im out.  Got it?”
     “Got it, boss.”  Joe Bob grumbled under his breath as he climbed out of the paddywagon.  He tucked his flashlight in his pocket and headed for the door.  He could see through the cracks in the wood that the stairs were straight ahead.  He figured any dog with any sense wouldn’t climb them even on a dare.  His plan was to go upstairs, make a lot of noise, and scare out the stray without actually having to search any creepy corners. 
    The door creaked loudly as he entered.  Joe Bob shivered in spite of the warmth of the day.  He headed straight for the stairs, not even bothering to shine his light around the dim interior.  The stairs groaned under his weight, but held.  As he ascended, he noticed a peculiar odor.  Stopping at the landing, he sniffed.  The smell was completely unfamiliar.  It wasn’t overwhelming, but he could tell it was getting stronger.  It wasn’t rancid, exactly, but it was certainly pungent.  It almost seemed as though the air was getting thicker.  He shined his light up the last few steps and gasped.
    Above him, the floor looked as though it had liquefied.  A strange greenish ooze was dripping from broken buckets onto the rotting floor.  The smell was getting stronger and Joe Bob was feeling dizzy.  “Holy moly,” he thought.  “I figured the rumors about a toxic waste dump were just kids’ stories!”
     Suddenly the silence was broken by a long low growl.  Joe Bob turned slowly.  A huge greenish shape stood before him, snarling and drooling.  He dropped his flashlight and screamed. 

I haven't forgotten that the election is in one week.  I have been campaigning like crazy.  Yesterday the campaigning came to me.  A whole bunch of strange looking little voters came to my door.  I had the bosses buy their votes with candy.  Little Bit says this sort of thing happens all the time.

Are you ready for the next chapter??  ♫I've got chills...they're multiplyin'...♫

Chapter 7

    The stray blinked in the sunlight as though just waking from a nap.  He had no recollection of leaving the shack.  He glanced around and saw the destroyed dogcatcher’s wagon, but had no memory of it either.  He sniffed the ground, searching out the dogcatcher.  As he passed the mangled wagon, he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in its windows.  He gasped.  How was this possible?  He was looking at himself, but yet not himself.  His fur had been replaced with scales.  His teeth had grown into enormous fangs.  He realized he was looking down at the wagon, and it occurred to him that he must have grown to a height of at least twenty feet.  None of this disturbed him as much as the unsettling sensation that his transformation was not yet complete.
    His stomach growled.  He was famished.  Somehow, he knew there was only one thing that would sate his hunger:  meat, fresh, and lots of it.  He followed his nose north, to the smells of the big city, filled with smog, traffic, and a nearly unlimited supply of prey.

OOOOHHH!! I can't wait for the next chapter!!