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Yet, three shots later, and with her stomach full of beef, she warily
drifted off into slumber. She dreamt that she was running though a kennel with a meat cleaver in her hand and a
possessed look on her face. But no voices. Least not in the dream. The voice didn't come until just before she
woke up. It moaned across her synaptic nerves and rattled her to the quick. "Eeeeaaat Peeeete. Eeeeaaat Peeeete.
Eeeeaaat Peeeete." The sound echoed in an otherwise blank state of post-sleep/pre-wakedom.
"Godamnit!" she yelled as she consciously realized she was hearing the voice again.
Mary Beth threw herself out of bed and rushed to the kitchen for some coffee. "What the fuck is going on?"
she asked, as she poured the java into a cup that she grasped with her shaking hands. Just then, she looked up
and out her window. Pete was standing on the lawn staring back at her. Just standing and staring. Standing, staring,
drooling, and snorting. Snorting like the little devil he was.
"I hate you, Pete," Mary Beth said, and Pete let off with a series of yapping barks. "Fuck you,
Pete," Mary Beth responded and walked away from the window.
The rest of the day went by in a blur. "Eeeeaaat Peeeete," frequently reverberated in her brain, but
it was her own voice she was hearing this time. Mary Beth knew that couldn't be a good sign.
She finished her day in a befuddled haze and returned home. She bypassed the kitchen, the kitchen and its large
pots, and headed instead for the bathroom, with its medicine cabinet and sleeping pills. "Maybe I can medicate
the noise out," she said as she downed three little, blue tablets. At least that's what she prayed for.
Then she got undressed and climbed into bed. She tried to think of good, clean thoughts. Of pretty flowers and
white sand beaches. No dogs, no kennels, no cleavers, and no drool. But those thoughts managed to whittle their
way in. The beach was soon overrun with jet-black pugs, which promptly either ate or pissed on all the flowers.
Mary Beth twitched in her sleep as her hand involuntarily whacked at the air above her body. The only drool came
from the saliva that trickled from her mouth and ran down her chin.
But again the dream ended and her mind went blank. Sadly, she once again heard the now familiar "Eeeeaaat
Peeeete" just before she awoke. Mary Beth was mightily angry as she wiped her chin and hopped out of bed.
She stormed into the kitchen and glared out the window. As expected, Pete was glaring back at her. He yapped upon
seeing her and pulled at his chain. "Fuck you, Pete. Fuck you," Mary Beth shouted and ran from the window.
Luckily, it was Saturday, so no work. Mary Beth didn't think she had it in her to even contemplate working. Instead,
she returned to her bedroom and flung herself on the bed. She was exhausted, but petrified at the thought of falling
back to sleep. Still, her lids quickly grew heavy and her body sank into the mattress. The last words she said
before drifting off were, "Damn dog."
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