M. R. JORDAN
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Part 18

12/8/2016

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"Brain pudding," Hubert growled. Foam dripped from the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were wild. "Brain pizza, brain pastrami on rye…"

"Hubert, stop that!" I barked

"Brain juice, brain milk, brain ice cream, brains n' peas," he snarled, snapping at Old Man Sanderson.
Clearly, there was no barking the zombie down. I ran between his legs. He fell mushily to the pavement. His right eyeball popped out and rolled, coming to rest in front of my paws. I gave it a lick. (It tasted slightly better than his ear.)

"Zombies are real!" Old Man Sanderson shouted as he shuffled away. "I bested a zombie, yippee!"

"You did not. I saved you from him," I barked. "I’m a hero. As such, I should be rewarded with a steak. No, make that ten steaks."

Hubert pulled himself into a sitting position. "You ruined my dinner. I should sue you. Now, what am I going to do?"

"Take up Parcheesi. I don’t know, but this is my neighborhood," I growled. "It's taken me years to get these people trained. I won’t have you messing up my work. No chasing the neighbors! And no biting!"

"Are you all right mister?" Einstein said breathlessly as he arrived. He peered down at Hubert. "Should I call a doctor?"

"I’m fine. Thanks for asking," Hubert moaned. "Your dog is the worst dog in the world."

"Oh. That bad, huh?" Einstein said and then shouted at the top of his lungs, "Mom. Mom! MOM!"

On any other street, neighbors would have been drawn out of their houses by the ruckus, however, on Barry Schmelly Road, the Angletons had something of a reputation. In other words, this was an ordinary day as far as the neighbors were concerned, and only Mrs. Tinkle paused at the mailbox, and just long enough to shake her head.

"What!" Mrs. Angleton shouted from the porch.

"This guy is all tore up because Meat Head ran under him. He keeps moaning. I think he needs to go to the hospital!"

She cupped her hands around her mouth. "Oh great! Just what I don't need, a giant hospital bill on top of everything else! Get rid OF that dog!"

"Meat Head, stop barking," Einstein said. "Don't worry, mister, he won't bite…Oh, well, I'm sorry about that mister. He's never bitten anyone before. Oh no, is that your eyeball? Mom, this guy is falling apart, call 911!"

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    Meat Head the Worst Dog in the World will be posted here in easy to read increments.  Read for oldest to newest if  you haven't been following along.

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  • Blog
  • Second Blog
  • About
  • Published Stories
  • Free Stories
    • Some Things Never Change
    • The Real Thing
    • Boys As Nice as John
    • For You, Mother
    • Meat Head the Worst Dog in the World