1
About fifteen minutes before 5:00 PM, I’ve taken my eternal time-out to life. Now, as far as my universal sense dictated me, I should be heading up God’s paradise. Err, I didn’t see Mr. Ghostrider anywhere so it’s understandable that my destination is heaven, right?
Aaaaah, heaven! If that doesn’t sound like cloud-9 filled with sausages to you, then you must be sitting on top of Satan's BBQ grill in hell.
I am now airborne, floating to fulfill the spirits means searching for my place over the sky. It’s actually like I’m Superdog with a cape defying gravity. I couldn’t even see the place I was before when I was alive. Duh, from up here they were just like minimalist legends in a map.
Come to think of it, I couldn’t even remember where I was, what I’ve been, who killed me, and who I am before I got to this no-organs-no-bones-no-brain-no-cells-no-veins-no-blood-and-all-other-inner-dog-parts-missing empty spirit. And it’s so amazing how it doesn’t affect me. Truth is, my main concern is as to why there isn’t a halo over my head and if it’d be made out of bones and where the hell is my angel wings and if that’d be made out of fur. Hmmmn. If that doesn’t sound so fishy to you, chances are, you haven’t smelled a fish.
(Suddenly this rear sky above me split open and a blinding light exploded like a grenade in my sight. That got me floored like I was boomeranged to the ground.)
I gasped. “The Gateway to Heaven.”
Afterwards, I coughed. You see, together with the light a smoke materialized. I understand in scenes like that, they always turn up together for the effect.
Nevertheless, I remain still for there’s but a canopy of light out there and even St. Peter’s rooster couldn’t be seen. But not so long unclear murmurings surfaced. Actually, all the words I could understand are ‘woof’ and ‘inhaler’.
Soon enough, figures behind those “woof” and “inhaler” surfaced.
Dogs, eight of them, armored with spoon and fork?, barricaded the gateway.
“So you noticed,” a black Dobberman with a bib growl. “We’re feasting on our after six dinner when you arrived, dead hound.”
“Ngarsbndgswougjangirsgrw – “
“Will you rid of that skeleton in your mouth so we could delegate on what you’re saying!” he barked at the Fat-pup Pitbull earnestly crunching a bone thus floundering his words.
The Fat-pup sputtered the bone. “My-my apology. I only wanted to say that, uh, that, uh, Uhurmp. What I wanted to say is (paused for some sway)) HE - had arrived.” Then he chomped on the bone again.
And figure behind those figures behind those “woof” and “inhaler” surfaced.
This time I gasped in an open-mouth a beehive could house in.
“The Stairway to Heaven…”
And you wouldn’t believe who’s at the foot of it.
“Led Zeppelin?”
“… and he’s vying for stairway in heaven…”
A limp Mongrel replied. “Cool, huh. We gather him from hell to do that everytime we welcome a newbie here. In the living world, that’s like a community service as a capital punishment to popular pips whoo cooommiiiitteeeeed aaaaaa peeeeeeettyyyyyyyy criiiiiiiiiimmmmmmmmmmmme-”
Right, sure, yeah. Just out of the blue, everything gets a little haaaaaaaaaaaazyyyyyyyyyyyyy. The nasty thing is it’s because a REWIND’s been happening.
“…nevaeh ot yawriats rof gniyv s’eh dna…”
“?nileppeZ deL”
“.neveaH ot yawriatS ehT”
An open-mouth from gasp shut.
Figure behind those figures behind those “woof” and “inhaler” faded.
The Fat-pup ate back his words and munched back the spitted bone.
The Dobberman retrieved his reproach to the Fat-pup.
“- wrgsrignajguowsgdnbsragN”
Then the same Dobberman take back his growling at me.
Eight dogs barricading the gateway died out to the smoke.
There’s “relahni” and “foow” murmurings.
From being still I coughed.
I swallowed my coughs. A smoke returned to the light.
I gasped back. “…neveaH ot yawetaG ehT”
(A blinding light that exploded like a grenade in my sight evaporated from this rear sky above me that soon enough put up the shutters.)
Flicker of thoughts about some main concerns and some amazing feeling and seemingly of having an amnesia not being able to remember who I am before I got to this empty spirit with all-other-inner-parts-missing with no-blood-no-veins-no-cells-no-brain-no-bones-and-no-organs, and on who killed me, what I’ve been, and where I was before I’m up high.
Airborne, I could see the place I was before, still like legends from a map but now sizing up as I fall down from air. Having a thought of being like Superdog with a cape defying gravity. Now I no longer float for I could no longer resist gravity. The lower ground is swallowing my spirit. Awoooooooooooooooooooooo!
Thoughts of heaven sounding like cloud-9 filled with sausages.
Thoughts about not seeing Mr. Ghostrider anywhere thus giving me the idea that I should be going to heaven.
Finally, ME, taking my eternal time-out to life about fifteen minutes before 5:00 PM.
About fifteen minutes before 5:00 PM, I’ve taken my eternal time-out to life. Now, as far as my universal sense dictated me, I should be heading up God’s paradise. Err, I didn’t see Mr. Ghostrider anywhere so it’s understandable that my destination is heaven, right?
WRONG.
(Thus begins little COPPER’s journey to DOGHOOD)
Aaaaah, heaven! If that doesn’t sound like cloud-9 filled with sausages to you, then you must be sitting on top of Satan's BBQ grill in hell.
I am now airborne, floating to fulfill the spirits means searching for my place over the sky. It’s actually like I’m Superdog with a cape defying gravity. I couldn’t even see the place I was before when I was alive. Duh, from up here they were just like minimalist legends in a map.
Come to think of it, I couldn’t even remember where I was, what I’ve been, who killed me, and who I am before I got to this no-organs-no-bones-no-brain-no-cells-no-veins-no-blood-and-all-other-inner-dog-parts-missing empty spirit. And it’s so amazing how it doesn’t affect me. Truth is, my main concern is as to why there isn’t a halo over my head and if it’d be made out of bones and where the hell is my angel wings and if that’d be made out of fur. Hmmmn. If that doesn’t sound so fishy to you, chances are, you haven’t smelled a fish.
(Suddenly this rear sky above me split open and a blinding light exploded like a grenade in my sight. That got me floored like I was boomeranged to the ground.)
I gasped. “The Gateway to Heaven.”
Afterwards, I coughed. You see, together with the light a smoke materialized. I understand in scenes like that, they always turn up together for the effect.
Nevertheless, I remain still for there’s but a canopy of light out there and even St. Peter’s rooster couldn’t be seen. But not so long unclear murmurings surfaced. Actually, all the words I could understand are ‘woof’ and ‘inhaler’.
Soon enough, figures behind those “woof” and “inhaler” surfaced.
Dogs, eight of them, armored with spoon and fork?, barricaded the gateway.
“So you noticed,” a black Dobberman with a bib growl. “We’re feasting on our after six dinner when you arrived, dead hound.”
“Ngarsbndgswougjangirsgrw – “
“Will you rid of that skeleton in your mouth so we could delegate on what you’re saying!” he barked at the Fat-pup Pitbull earnestly crunching a bone thus floundering his words.
The Fat-pup sputtered the bone. “My-my apology. I only wanted to say that, uh, that, uh, Uhurmp. What I wanted to say is (paused for some sway)) HE - had arrived.” Then he chomped on the bone again.
And figure behind those figures behind those “woof” and “inhaler” surfaced.
This time I gasped in an open-mouth a beehive could house in.
“The Stairway to Heaven…”
And you wouldn’t believe who’s at the foot of it.
“Led Zeppelin?”
“… and he’s vying for stairway in heaven…”
A limp Mongrel replied. “Cool, huh. We gather him from hell to do that everytime we welcome a newbie here. In the living world, that’s like a community service as a capital punishment to popular pips whoo cooommiiiitteeeeed aaaaaa peeeeeeettyyyyyyyy criiiiiiiiiimmmmmmmmmmmme-”
Right, sure, yeah. Just out of the blue, everything gets a little haaaaaaaaaaaazyyyyyyyyyyyyy. The nasty thing is it’s because a REWIND’s been happening.
“…nevaeh ot yawriats rof gniyv s’eh dna…”
“?nileppeZ deL”
“.neveaH ot yawriatS ehT”
An open-mouth from gasp shut.
Figure behind those figures behind those “woof” and “inhaler” faded.
The Fat-pup ate back his words and munched back the spitted bone.
The Dobberman retrieved his reproach to the Fat-pup.
“- wrgsrignajguowsgdnbsragN”
Then the same Dobberman take back his growling at me.
Eight dogs barricading the gateway died out to the smoke.
There’s “relahni” and “foow” murmurings.
From being still I coughed.
I swallowed my coughs. A smoke returned to the light.
I gasped back. “…neveaH ot yawetaG ehT”
(A blinding light that exploded like a grenade in my sight evaporated from this rear sky above me that soon enough put up the shutters.)
Flicker of thoughts about some main concerns and some amazing feeling and seemingly of having an amnesia not being able to remember who I am before I got to this empty spirit with all-other-inner-parts-missing with no-blood-no-veins-no-cells-no-brain-no-bones-and-no-organs, and on who killed me, what I’ve been, and where I was before I’m up high.
Airborne, I could see the place I was before, still like legends from a map but now sizing up as I fall down from air. Having a thought of being like Superdog with a cape defying gravity. Now I no longer float for I could no longer resist gravity. The lower ground is swallowing my spirit. Awoooooooooooooooooooooo!
Thoughts of heaven sounding like cloud-9 filled with sausages.
Thoughts about not seeing Mr. Ghostrider anywhere thus giving me the idea that I should be going to heaven.
Finally, ME, taking my eternal time-out to life about fifteen minutes before 5:00 PM.
BLACKNESS
----
About fifteen minutes before 5:00 PM, I’ve taken my eternal time-out to life. Now, as far as my universal sense dictated me, I should be heading up God’s paradise. Err, I didn’t see Mr. Ghostrider anywhere so it’s understandable that my destination is heaven, right?
WRONG.
(Thus begins little COPPER’s journey to DOGHOOD)
