The volcano was about to erupt. I wasn't

The volcano was about to erupt. I wasn't able to save them both. I had to choose between Kathy and my dog. I know Kathy had been great to me my entire life, but my dog made me

great sandwiches, and I was feeling quite hungry at the time. Fleeing with my dog in my arms, I knew I had made the right choice if I were ever to achieve my dream of

making the best dog meat sandwich in culinary history. No one would stop me in my quest. Not the vets, not the RSPCA, not even my own conscience.

It was too bad that I was somehow extremely allergic to dog meat. So now it was a choice of either abandoning my dream, or never get to taste the fruits of my labor.

The dog is a English Bulldog by the way. His name is Bob. He sometimes bark. He barks very loud. That is why he has a bark collar, and one time he bark so loud the cops came over.

They told the owner that it was illegal to have such a poorly characterized pet in such an educated city, and so they were forced to put the dog down. "Mommy, will he go to heaven?

"Of course she will child," replied mother. "Only goats and goldfish go to hell."

And to this the child just didn't know how to respond; trying to conceal emotion, a flighs of stairs was ascended and a door was slammed and a bed was smothered in tears

as it screamed for help. The child wept on, uncaring, driving his tiny fists deeper into the mattress. The bed wheezed desperately for breath, sputtered, and fell into blackness.