"Stay back, creature from hell!"

The tiny amount of the minister's gray hair stood on all ends. He held up a wooden cross to shield himself and his seven-year-old grandson from a hideous dog like creature. The demon dog with spiky black and red hair stood on its hind legs, slowly approaching them on the bright Sunday afternoon.

The grandson clasped to his grandfather harder when the creature took a single intimidating step forward. The minister and the demon dog looked each other in the eye, the minister cowering in fear. They both knew this would end in bloodshed.

The demon dog approached the wooden cross, yanked the wooden cross out of the minister's hand, and stomped on it. The cross did burn the demon, however it hardly left a scar worth celebrating over. The minister was out of ideas (well, he never really had any in the first place).

"You're going to have to do better then that," the demon said in a rather foul voice. "All of you humans are the same - weak and pathetic."

The minister was too old to runaway. He wanted to escape, but the dog had struck such great fear into him that he lost all his courage. All he could do was pray.

Then the Powers that Be heard his plea.

Dashing out from the nearby rose bushes, a light brownish coyote pounced into sight, growling and barking at the loathsome demon. The coyote stopped in front of the humans, faced the demon, and positioned her legs for an attack.

"Well, what do we got here," the coyote said. "It looks like a baby puppy. He's so cute." She turned and faced the minister. "You guys better get the heck out of here. I'll take care of this guy."

"Thank you, miss," the minister said.

While the coyote was facing them, the demon dog slashed her across the face. The minister grabbed his grandson by the hand and ran off as the coyote rolled off into a massive oak tree. Several fresh green leaves feel gently to the ground.

"This should be no problem," the coyote boasted as she got back up.

"Foolish animal," the demon shouted. "All holy things must be destroyed!"

"Who are you calling foolish? The name is Iza by the way, not foolish animal."

Iza the coyote and the demon dog walked around in a circle, facing each other, ready to attack. Iza made the first offensive move, but the demon picked her up and threw her clear across the street like a stuffed toy. Unfortunately for Iza, she was not a stuffed toy and the pavement caused some ugly scraps.

"All holy things must be destroyed," the demon shouted in his unusually foul voice.

The demon raced toward the street toward Iza. With a swift grab, he lifted Iza up by the neck. The demon looked her in the eye and smiled. Iza smiled back and then she closed her eyes. This confused the demon. Before it could figure out what was going on, it had happened.

The beaming headlights to a slamming black 1968 Plymouth Belvedere GTX with the top down shined into the demon dog's eyes. As the car drove forward, Iza kicked the demon, releasing the grip on her, and raced off the street as the car smashed into the demon.

The car came to a halt shortly after the impact that sent the demon down the street. The driver was one of Iza's friends, Sam DA Lawyer. He was a cunning human lawyer that helped everyone in need. This was one of those times.

"Cut the back story, and let's get with the action," Sam said.

Fine then. Sam slicked his brown hair back as he usually did before pulling out his handgun. The demon dog stood back up as the gun was gently pulled out from the inside of Sam's black suit. He aimed the gun at the demon as it raced toward him. Sam calmly fired several times when the demon got close enough. The demon fell, dead, to the hard ground.

A short, fat, green colored bird popped up from the passenger's seat.

"Yay! Get you're groove on Sam!" the annoying bird shouted. "You DA lawyer taking out the trash!"

Sam turned toward him. "Hey, Dog, hit Mr. Green upside the head for me."

"I wish I could, but I'm a little stuck here," the dog said from the backseat with his British accent. "I know I should've put on a seat belt with you at the wheel."

Sam rolled his eyes, went, and pulled the English Bulldog from under the seat. "There you go."

"Thank you, Sam," the bulldog said as Sam sat him in the front seat next to Mr. Green.

The bulldog was Sam's consultant and personal smacker for when Mr. Green said something stupid. As ingenious as he was, his name was just Dog. He didn't mind much because it gave the false impression that he wasn't too sharp, which he took advantage of and blew people away with his impressive intellect. It was something he enjoyed doing because it made him feel so good. Another thing that made him feel good was hitting stupid people or animals.

Then Dog smacked Mr. Green with his paw like he was asked.

"I told you I would do it," Dog said as Sam slide in the driver's seat and Iza jumped in the back.

Iza put her head up front. "We should get back to the office now."

"Yeah, my shows are coming on," Mr. Green said, but was ignored.

"Everyone buckle up," Dog warned, "because Sam is driving."

"Ha, ha, very amusing," Sam said as he drove off.

"Thank you. I thought it was too."

Sam drove the car over the demon dog, causing Dog to slip down and get under the seat again. Everyone laughed at him. He climbed his way back onto the seat, mumbling complaints that no one understood.

"Do it again, Dog!" Mr. Green shouted. "That was funny."

"When you decided to get a pet, why did it have to be him, Sam?" Dog asked.

Sam made a right turn. "Comic relief."

Hovering behind Sam's car, a slick black hover car drove on the left lane of the two way street. The cloaked driver slipped out a small gun. Before he could aim it at Sam, Sam had already shot the cloaked the driver in the arm. His car spun out of control and crashed into a nearby tree.

"Wow, Sam," Mr. Green said, "you're not even looking now to know when someone is going to shoot you."

"Well, practice makes perfect," Dog explained. "Everyone wants Sam dead because he's responsible for locking away so many criminals."

Sam smiled. "Did you have to make that back story sound so thrown in there?"

"Yes, I did."

Before anyone could say anything, Iza asked, "So, where are we going?"

"To court," Dog said. "I know that because I am the secretary."

"You're the traveling secretary," Sam corrected. "Iza is the traveling body guard, and Mr. Green, is well, Mr. Green."

They drove to court. A bunch of boring stuff happened when they got there. The author did not feel like writing more, so he just cut it out. Nothing will be missed. As a matter of fact, this is the end of the story. What else is there to write about?

"You can write about how you suck," Mr. Green said.

What? I do not suck.

"Yeah, he doesn't suck," Iza said. "He's just a human."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam asked. "Is being human like a flaw or something?"

"I didn't mean it like that..."

It came out like that to us.

"Let's play a game," Mr. Green shouted. "Pick a number one through one hundred."

The number is 77.

Mr. Green scratched his head. "How did you know that?"

"He's a writer," Dog said. "All good writers know every thought of their characters."

"Cool," Mr. Green drooled. "I'm going to become a writer!"

Everyone laughed at him. And so, our story finally comes to end. Nothing big happened. There was no character development, no good jokes, and no morals were learned.

"I learned that writers are powerful," Mr. Green said.

Okay, the only lesson learned here is that writers are powerful. Oh, and we also learned that milk does not come from cows, it comes from milk cartoons, coyotes make great bodyguards, and if a person has to dread life they should dread it one day at a time.

The End
Story (C) 2002 by Dennis Spielman
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