Thread: Solve the problem

It seemed to him, as he sipped bitter coffee from a mug, that life sucked. A quick glance around the one bedroom apartment told him that. Papers, F grade tests, dirty underwear and socks, and beer bottles were scattered around the floor. No wonder his girlfriend had left him. But today he would start a new day of his life. When he had woken up that morning he had decided that. A new day. A fresh start. Sighing, he got off the couch and started cleaning. One item at a time, he felt like a stocking clerk.

Underneath the underwear he found a little leather covered notebook with round rings at the side. He turned it over, examining the covers, wondering what it was. Then the memories rushed at him like a lightning bolt. The notebook! Of course. He flipped it open, and there it was... drawings. Done when he was a child.

With a finger, he traced the edge of an old favorite, a dog. Sharp teeth, drooling mouth and with the left ear bitten off. The dog was scary looking, he had to admit.

He wondered... What would it be like to get a bulldog as scary as this? Mentally shrugging, he tossed the notebook on his desk next to the window and continued cleaning.

The next few days for Max were a blur. All he knew was he drank pounds upon pounds of coffee, kept his apartment clean, and slowly improved his college grades. Life was getting better, but his thoughts constantly returned to the sketchbook of his, the picture of the dog.

It would be brown, and a puppy at first. He would train it himself, and call it Waldo. A big furry guard dog, prancing about his apartment. It seemed stupid, but he couldn't get rid of the image in his head.

He was determined to have it. But where would he get a dog like that? The small town of Brilo barely had a grocery store, more like a vegetable stand run by an old farmer. The days passed by, but still Max's thoughts returned to the dog... Waldo. Imaginary best friend.

The problem presented itself. Where would he find a scary dog?

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Ok continue the story. I wannt to see where he will find a scary dog. 500 word limit.

He knew of no-one in town who owned a dog. Pinshelf was one of the smallest towns in the quiet county of Devon, in England. The population of the town was about 3500 and the majority of pet owners were into felines, not canines. Some of the elderly women had poodles or Yorkshire terriers but neither of these breeds could be considered anything near scary.

The town was near the sea and was surrounded by dense woodland. He knew of a rough, weather worn, ex-sailor type who lived on his own outside of the town and about a mile into the thick trees. He had come across him once as a child while playing hide and seek with his friends. This was thirteen years ago. He hid behind a grand oak tree hoping that neither of his friends would find him. There was a rustle in the bushes and he turned to see the scarred and wrinkled face of the man who lived alone. Screeching with fright he ran to the exit of the woods. Thinking back to the incident he remembered that the man had a mean looking black dog at his side. He wondered if the dog was still alive.

Although he was fearful of going back into the woods he thought to himself that he was going to prove himself an adult and in return for his endeavor, gain a scary dog.

To prepare for his journey into the woods he went into the kitchen and got a large knife from the rack on the side. It would be useful for cutting random branches in the woods and also protection in case the man got threatening towards him.

He entered the woods and headed towards where he had encountered the man. After thirty minutes of walking in the right direction he stumbled across a hut in the middle of a clearing. Realizing that the hut was probably the home of the man he walked up to it and knocked on the door. There was no answer. It looked like no-one was home. He walked around the hut and saw that there were freshly cut logs in a basket.

Thinking the man was out with his dog he returned to the front door and knocked again. This time after hearing no reply he tried pushing the door to see if it was locked. It wasn’t so he slowly and carefully opened the door, softly saying hello as he did.

There was an almighty smell of methane as he opened the door. There was a dirty window in the hut that let in just enough light for him to be able to make out a shape on the floor. It was the shape of a human body. Some of the torso was missing. There was what looked like bite marks on it. He wretched at the sight in front of him and put his sleeve over his mouth to hide the retched smell. He heard a noise in the corner. Taking his knife out he turned to defend himself. Out of the corner of the room came the black dog he had seen so many years ago. He prepared for the dog to attack but instead it went to its dead owner and started to eat away at his flesh.

He ran out of the house in disgust and threw up down the side of a tree. He decided then against the idea of wanting a scary dog.

"Wait a minute," Max said after getting over his shock. "I do want a scary dog. But not a cannibalistic doggie." He paced around his dirty apartment, wondering what he should do.

Then he had it, an idea so stupid it just had to work! He would make his own dog!

He looked around the apartment and glanced hungrily at the piles of empty pizza boxes.....

To be continued...?

Hours were spent drawing up the plans and making the stencils for the cardboard hound. He got the boxes from the pile, threw away all the moldy stale bits of discarded pizza and cut out the various shapes need to construct himself a model of the scary dog he so desired He had started his task at midday and now in the heat of the summer the sun was disappearing down the back of the trees beside his house.

He pulled and then bit off the last bit of Sellotape. Holding together the last two untied pieces of cardboard he took the strip from between his teeth and connected the ear of the red and white, somewhat sharp angled dog.

Taking a step back he viewed his creation. The mouth of the dog had triangle-shaped, snaring teeth. Its eyes were squinted and its jaw shaped to look as though he was ready to attack. The dog looked scary but because it was the colour of pizza boxes it lacked the authenticity of a real mutt. Realizing he had some brown paint in a kitchen cupboard he went to fetch it. He thought of how good Waldo would look, brown.

Two coats of brown paint turned the model into quite a realistic looking beast. Black paint had been used to paint the interior of the mouth and white for the eyes and the menacing teeth. He stood back to take another look at his new pet. This time he was proud. Feeling tired from both the paint fumes and the day’s work it had taken him to create Waldo, he showered, got undressed and climbed into bed to fall asleep.

It didn’t take him long to fall into the realm of the dream world. He came round from the darkness and found himself walking along the path in the woods he had taken the day before. He knew in the back of his mind he was dreaming but yet he continued to cautiously move forward towards where the hut should be. Fear ran through his thoughts and although he was petrified, there was a controlled calm within him.

Reaching the clearing in the woods the calm turned to anxiety. His breathing got faster and heavier. His throat felt tight. In front of him was the hut; the door was slightly ajar. He moved towards the hut. He was scared and seemed to be made to go forward rather than by his own desire.

At the door of the hut he drew in his breath. The smell of the man’s dead corpse lingered in his nose and in his dream he was expecting to discover the same terrible sight that had made him ill before. The door creaked open on its own and instead of seeing the half-eaten body on the floor he saw the dog. It was just sat peacefully, looking at him as though wondering who he was.

He let out a breath of relief as he hadn't had to see what he had seen before. The dog looked him in the eye and a eerie feeling ran up his spine. His breath stopped as he anticipated something terrible happening. All of a sudden the dog snarled, jumped up and landed on top of him. In his own face was the face of the dog. It’s sharp, pointed, white teeth menacingly threatening him. He didn’t have the chance to catch his breathe back and just as the dog was about to bite him in the face he awoke from the dream; breathing rapidly and sweating with anxiety.

His head in his hands, he let out a sigh of relief that none of it had been real. Removing his hands from his eyes he looked at the corner of his room with his blurred vision. Slowly the haze turned into the figure of Waldo, his teeth snarling just as the dog in the dream had.

Jumping out of his bed he grabbed some lighter fluid from the side of the bed (he kept this safe for re-filling lighters. He smoked a lot of crack and they would often run out). He sprayed it over Waldo and grabbing a blue zipper off the bedside table, he set fire to the pet he had spent so much love and time on.

Waldo turned into a ball of orange flames. The fire caught the curtain in the room and quickly spread across the top of the door frame. Realizing that the door was the only way out of the room his only other option was to jump out of the window. His heart raced. What was happening to him? He had just woke up from a bad dream and now his first floor room was in flames.

Max let out a shriek of frustration as the flames licked at the doorway. His lungs began to fill with the thick black smoke that was swirling around the room. What was he doing to do? Perhaps he put out the flames? Wildly, Max began hauling things from the space under his bed, looking for something to smother the rising flames. His hand closed on smooth, cold glass. Coughing, he pulled a half-empty bottle of vodka from under the bed. How had that got there? His brain still fogged with sleep and smoke, Max unscrewed the cap and flung the contents of the bottle over the smouldering Waldo. A blast of heat singed Max's eyebrows as the flames erupted even stronger. Of course! Alcohol was flammable! What had he been thinking? Feeling increasingly panicked, Max ran to the window. Struggling with the stiff catch, he heaved it open and climbed up on to the windowsill. The night air filled his lungs as the fire raged behind him.