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Chapter 4: Chain Letter by Stephen Simpson

Marlene drives her car forward, inch by inch, in the peak-hour traffic.

Everybody is driving slower today. Usually, it is a race to the death with cars cutting you off at every possible moment. People who are always in such a desperate rush to get where they are going that they do not mind killing a few people in the process.

She struggles to see through the deluge of rain being slouched from the heavens, the drops so big that she can see them fall and then make that splosh pattern on the bonnet of her car.

She is thankful for the traffic build-up, because if she had to race with the other drivers on these roads today, she surely would not have made it home alive.

When she eventually gets home, she runs through the rain to her front door. She struggles to unlock it, so by the time she literally falls through the door, catching onto the table just inside the door, she is soaked to the bone.

She sighs with relieve, thankful that she did not fall all the way to the floor and then turning towards the door again, she presses the button on her car-keys twice. The lights of her car go on and off, making a beeping sound, locking all the doors, and activating the alarm system.

She locks her front door and then walks into her hall, water puddles following her into the house.

She lives in a spacious two-bedroom house with her two dogs, and now she switches on the lamp in the hall while her dogs, almost as big as her, come running towards her and the stumps of their tails wiggle around excitedly.

They used to dock Bullmastiff's tails, but they have now made a law against it, because it is cruel to animals, a law that should have been in place decades ago.

How shocking it is that people with their infinite wisdom decide that it is not necessary for a dog to have a tail, and then proceed to chop it off a few days after they are born.

Beth, the female is of a smaller build, with a dark caramel coat, and her muscles are well defined. Bobby, on the other hand is huge, his head and neck alone is a frightening sight, but he is not as defined as Beth, his hind legs a bit skinny compared to the front half of him and he has more of a vanilla caramel coloured coat.

They are the most loving dogs Marlene has ever come across and she knows that if she was ever in the situation where her life was in danger, that either Beth or Bobby or both, would give their lives in return of hers. All dogs have this inbred capacity and need of protecting humans against danger, but for Marlene, her dogs, her breed of dogs, are the most loyal of all dogs.

Bullmastiffs always get such bad publicity. If the animal acquired to protect and love unconditionally were treated with meanness, malice and cruelty would they not instinctively and eventually turn upon the hand that feeds them.

Bobby rubs himself against her legs, while she buries her hands in the scruff of his neck, “Hey, my big boy, did you miss me? Yes, you did,” Marlene coos.

Beth is not so much an attention seeker as Bobby is, and Marlene just gives her a quick rub behind her ear, “Hey, girl, dinner is going to be a little late today?”

Beth looks up at Marlene, with the usual frown between her chocolate brown eyes, but today her eyes clearly say, ‘What?’

They follow Marlene to the porch door that leads into her secure back garden. She leaves this door open for them during the day, so that they can do their business when needed. It provides room for them to wander around, instead of cooped up in the house all day, that would just be cruel for two such big animals. She is not scared of leaving the door open, because the fencing surrounding her back garden is especially high and she doubts anyone will be brave enough to enter her garden, with Beth and Bobby here.

She now locks the patio door, drawing the curtains and then they follow her to the kitchen, where Beth sits in her usual place, just far enough out of the way and just close enough, so that if a little of something fell off the counter, she will reach it without trouble.

Marlene makes dinner, nothing special. When it is ready, she feeds the dogs. The dogs eat in the kitchen, out of their own bowls in their own separate corners.

She takes her plate to the lounge and sits down with the plate of food on her lap. She presses the power button on the remote for the television to switch it on.

Knowing it is most probably unhealthy to eat while watching television, but she is past caring about issues that could cause an illness. Scientists could come up with something every week that would most certainly kill you. If she had to listen to them all, she would hardly be eating anything, she would never use household cleaners, she would walk around naked, so Marlene takes it all with a pinch of salt, adopting only those ideas suiting her lifestyle. When the advertisement break comes on, she stands up and takes her dishes to the kitchen.







Copyright © Stephen Simpson. All Rights Reserved. 
All work created and posted on this blog is the intellectual property of Stephen Simpson.

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