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M.B.D. – Episode 57

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Warning! The following may contain bad spelling, grammar, punctuation, cardboard characters, cheesy plots, offensive NSFW material, and / or puns. Reader discretion is advised.

An old man shuffled down the dark streets, with no particular destination in mind. Once he was a successful banker, with a fancy wife, car and house. But alcohol and too many affairs took their toll and he lost it all. The fancy wife left him and took almost everything in the divorce. The house and car were hers too.

He crawled inside a bottle and never came back out. The booze burned out his brain cells and was currently doing a great job of destroying his liver. He now wandered through the city streets, looking for anything that would give him his next shot of booze.

Sometimes the thugs running the streets came by and taunted him for their evening’s entertainment. They’d have a bottle and toss it around in a sadistic game of keep away. They would take turns swigging from the bottle as they passed it. Sometimes the booze would splash out of the unopened top. He’d chase the bottle around the circle, focused only on getting the alcohol so he could numb his mind from the pain of existence. In the end they’d get bored and let him have the last mouthful of drink.

As he shuffled down the street a noise from a nearby alley almost caught his attention. It took a lot to get his attention if it wasn’t related to drinking. He kept going along, one foot sliding in front of the other. His feet always scraped the ground, just barely coming off the pavement as they moved on autopilot. He’d keep going until his body was too tired to go on. Then he would just lie down wherever he was and sleep, until he rose and the whole cycle started over.

The noise came again. This time, some primal survival instinct took notice and he became a little more aware of his surroundings. He tried to place the sound. The inner workings of his brain told him that it was a dangerous sound, something that could hurt him.

He looked around as he became a little more clear headed. He didn’t see anything but he knew on an instinctual level that something was nearby.

The sound came again. It was a low growl. Dogs, he immediately thought. The feral ones usually traveled in small packs. They could be dangerous if they got up the nerve to attack. The old man quickened his pace but he was unused to running.

The noise came from behind him, this time much louder. It was unmistakably a guttural, growling noise, as if from large dog. He turned to see the monstrosity behind him, a few yards away.

He cried out in alarm and his feet started moving by themselves, carrying him away. It did little good. The beast sprang after him, quickly covering the space in a few short leaps.

Tusks and claws tore through the flesh of the old man, making of him a tattered and bloody corpse. The beast fed off the remains, blood dripping from its jaws. Its hunger not yet sated, it set off again into the night, searching for more prey.

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