Short Story 77 by Al Bob Bidwell published on 2019-12-18T16:00:27Z https://soundcloud.com/greataunthortense: Drew - guitar George - bass Alex - drum kit The old jalopy finally broke down, leaving us stranded 35 miles outside Buttfuck County. Marianne worked her long pee-colored hair into a messy bun and walked a few yards away with the dog. She removed the gun from her asscrack area and put two in the back of the hound's head. "We have to eat after all." I didn't argue. That never worked with her anyway. We ate and the meat was tough and generally not good. Maybe it was a lack of proper seasoning. "I've never eaten dog before," she said with a mouthful of dog. "Except for that one time." That was a new one. Comment by Small Great Dane I enjoyed your short story, Alex. I'm glad to see you also write "hound" fiction - one of the best genres. Dope sounds too :) 2020-01-02T13:14:27Z Comment by Sugaar Pan Cool! Sounds like those The Velvet Underground's narrative experimental songs 2019-12-20T13:43:17Z