The Case of the Hooking Bull Read Online Free PDF Page B

suddenly sprouted an arm that reached out and grabbed me, and acquired a voice, a terrible voice, that rumbled, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE, POOCH?!”
    Scared the living daylights out of me. Maybe my guilt feelings about being in Sally May’s living room had something to do with how badly it scared me, because I was indeed feeling a few pricks of guilt and remorse about, well, being in the house and so forth.
    And I sure wasn’t expecting to be assaulted by a Couch Monster in a semidarkened living room in the middle of the day. A guy hears about those things happening to other dogs, but he tends to think, “Nah, it’ll never happen to me.”
    But it sure as heck did happen to me. When that hand reached out and grabbed me by the scruff of the neck, I let out a squeak, lifted the hair on my back, and went to Full Stampede to the left.
    It was then that I saw the Ghostly Form rising from the couch. Yes sir, this ghost or evil spirit, call it what you wish, this THING in human form rose out of the cushions of the couch and sat up. It had a long nose, a beard, and hair down in its eyes.
    I bristled up like a cornered coyote, bared my fangs, and barked as I’d never barked before.
    That should have done the trick, but to my astonishment the THING continued to rise until it left the couch from which it had come like a wisp of smoke rising from a fire.
    It planted its feet upon the floor, reared up to its full height, made claws with its hands, and twisted its eyes and mouth into a horrible mask. And then, claws extended into a grabbing-and-killing position, it began lurching toward me—uttering a terrible growl that froze my blood in its vaynes.
    Vanes.
    Vaines.
    Vessels.
    Froze my blood in its vessels.
    You think I didn’t bark at that thing? I not only gave it the whole book on barking, but I also retreated a few steps to the northwest, just in case it . . .
    And it did! IT CAME AFTER ME! Hey, that was all I needed to know about Couch Monsters: They ate dogs. And with that, I said good-bye to barking and went ripping out of the living room and into the kitchen, did a little slipping and sliding on that slick linoleum floor, and vanished into a closet in the back bedroom.
    It was there in the darkness of the closet that I heard a thunder of laughter, and then a familiar voice: “What’s wrong, Hankie, did ya think I was going to eat ya?”
    Okay, what we had here . . . once again Slim had . . . have we discussed stupid childish cowboy pranks? He had pulled that stupid childish monster trick on me so many times, you’d think I would have . . . you’d think a grown man could find something better to do with his time.
    But the bottom line is that a dog can’t afford to take chances. Once in a great while he’ll come out on the short end of the . . . let’s just drop it.
    I crept out of the closet and peered around the corner and into the kitchen. I wagged my tail. Sure enough, there was Slim, pulling on his boots. When he saw me, he chuckled to himself and said, “Look at the hair on that dog’s back!”
    I barked at him one last time, just to let him know what I thought of his twisted sense of humor.
    â€œNow, now, Hankie, don’t be bitter. We was only having a little fun.” Little Alfred appeared at that moment, whistling a tune and looking up at the ceiling. Slim forked him with his eyes. “Say, Hotrod, who let that dog in the house?”
    â€œOh, he just swipped in, I guess.”
    â€œUh-huh. And if your momma was to walk in right now, I might be a-wearin’ her iron skillet around my neck. Let’s try to keep the livestock outside, hear?”
    â€œOkay, Swim. It was an accident.”
    â€œYalp.”
    That was odd. All signs and symptoms of the Ice Cream Experiment had disappeared—the carton and the lid—and somebody had even shut the freezer door. Slim would never know the full extent of what he had