My eyes blink open.
I turn my head and see my best friend and fellow terrier, Muttocks, being whisked away by manicured fingers. His tiny paw stretches out toward me as his lips curl back in a scream of horror. He’s carried out of the room and the door shuts behind him.
What the—where AM I? I turn from side to side, taking in my surroundings. I see various dolls, large posters of the Dagonesti Lich that goes by the name Bieber, glitter everywhere…
I raise my right forepaw up to the top of my head and feel a light tangle of soft fibers. What did they put on my—
A chorus of female voices interrupt my musing: “You made a rebel of a careless man’s careful daughter; you are the best thing, that’s ever been miiiiine….”
The door bursts opens and I’m suddenly enveloped by a gaggle of makeup-heavy faces, each one sporting a soul-chilling grin. Nails of all colors wrap around my torso and lift me up, forcing me closer to the overhead light, causing me to blink and wince.
“He needs a sweater!”
“Omagawd he couldn’t be anymore ADORBS—”
I scream and flail, snarling in outrage. Dastards! Trollops! “ARF ROWF ARF! ROOF ROWF McBARKSKIES!”
To no avail. These tweenage dunces fail to heed me, and continue gabbing as they place me before an assortment of doggy apparel. I squirt away from them, legs scrabbling, and dart into an open backpack. They close in on me and I hunker down. One of them stops the others.
She says, “No, I don’t want to force him. Here—let’s lure him out with this.”
What the devil could this slack-jawed wench be speaking of? There’s no ruse that can lure Bitefighter, 83rd level intellect and Senior Bite Monk of the Entradi Rangers, into the clutches of—
Then it hits me. No. NO!
My nose begins twitching involuntarily as it catches the scent of Pupperoni. Wolves’ balls it’s a foul substance, made up of all kinds of processed refuse, but I can’t resist—it’s so good, so delicious, so goddamn nommy…
“ROWF!” I come charging out of the backpack, my entire being focused on chowing down on that tasty conglomeration of half-meat. My teeth close around the delectable piece of Meaty Treaties, then I feel their hands around me once again. Once I gulp down mouthfuls of horrid yet succulent filth, I bark angrily at my oppressors.
“ROOF ROOF ARF!”
One of them turns me over and begins scratching my belly, murmuring, “Calm down sweetie…that’s a good doggy…”
I try to keep barking, but waves of sheer pleasure surge through my 10 lb. body, and both my back legs begin twitching in delight. Blast! You sly witches…you know all my weak points…but wait…there’s something on the floor…an eReader? Could it be? It’s a one in a million shot, but if it pans out…
I dart my paw over to the eReader, and activate it. Miracle upon miracles, I see that one of the books on it is “Echo.” I open it. Magic flash.
“ROWF ARF AROO!” A gaggle of Big Dogs bursts into the room. They’re all muddy and sopping wet, and immediately begin shaking in place, spraying dirty water everywhere. The tweenagers flee out of the room, emitting shrill screams as they leave. As I rise to my feet, I lock eyes with my saviors: a Great Dane, a Pit Bull, and a St. Bernard.
“Thank you brave warriors,” I wheeze, squirming out of an orange Halloween shirt with a smiling jack-o-lantern drawn onto its back. “I know not what other vile perfidies they had in store for me. You came just in time.”
They simply look at me.
“What?” I ask, irritated. “What the milk bone are you fools staring at?”
They burst out laughing. The St. Bernard says, “You…you…”
The Pit Bull manages, “Ribbons! Hair!” Then loses himself in mirth.
I run over to a full-length mirror and stare at my reflection. Gazing back at me is my own visage, but adorned with intricate curls of shining ribbons, all interwoven through and around my ears. I snarl in outrage, tear the offending ornaments from the top of my head in a blitz of tiny-yet-furious paws, and throw them to the floor. I clamp them in my mouth and begin shaking them back and forth, expressing my world-crushing fury which is both boundless and infinite.
“RAAAAHH!!! FILTHY TWO-LEGS! WHO DO THEY THINK THEY’RE FUCKING WITH!!! RAAAAHHHH!!!”
Once I’m done throwing a fit and my saviors are done laughing, I climb onto the back of the St. Bernard. My gaze is grim as I plot my revenge. It seems that the only Two-legs that has my back is the overly muscled goof known as Kent Wayne. The rest will pay the price for their hateful depravity. Terriers Eternus!
Come on—you KNOW you wanna see a tiny dog riding a big dog. Get Echo Vol. 1 on Kindle here: Vol. 1 on Kindle. Vol. 2 on Kindle here: Vol.2 on Kindle Vol. 3 on Kindle here: Vol. 3 on Kindle #kindle #kindleunlimited