We slog through the antediluvian swamp, a diaphanous mist rises from the quagmire and a miasmal stench fills our nostrils. The authorities are pursuing us, though we have done nothing wrong. Well, Andrew (my human) has done nothing wrong. I, on the other hand, bit a man, a big fat, obnoxious slob of a man. He had it coming to him. He said I was the ugliest dog he had even seen. Me, Danny the Dog!
After I bit him, he pulled out his cell phone and called the cops, but Andrew and I didn’t stick around and wait for them to show up, we hightailed it out of there pronto. Now we are hunted fugitives, with the law closing in. Andrew always told me I’d go to Doggie Jail if I didn’t mend my sorry-tail ways.
They are close now; we can hear their voices, so we pick up…
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