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I looked around the room confused. Where had that voice come from?
"Down here, dammit!" My dog, Alex, sat glaring up at me. I did a double-take, then pinched myself. "You're not dreaming," Alex spoke with a suave British accent. "Yes, I can speak.
" But that's not why I stared at my dog:"You have a gun!" The bulge in Alex's canine tracksuit was obvious. "Yes. No time to bloody explain.I need to find a woman named Moneypenny.
Moneypenny owes me dog treats. Big time. And this gun will help convince her to pay up." I couldn't believe my dog could be so coldblooded. "Alex," I said to him, "I can buy you
more dog treats. Just don't waste more bullets." I hoped I sounded convincing. Surely Alex could see sense.
But alas, he continued to shoot dog biscuits off a dummy's head, wasting perfectly good ammo. This time Madeline was very angry, and looked like a furious beetle.
"Beetles have feelings, too!" "Tell me about it," came a voice from inside the test dummy storage closet. Madeline's eyes grew even wider as Gregor Samsa stepped into the light.
Gregor adjusted the podium so he was in front of the the microphone. The spiders from Mars applauded vociferously. The noise police were measuring the decibels at 75db. No wonder
was allowed within two fathoms of Gregor so the crowd had to settle for amazement. Ziggy, Major Tom, and some Space Cowboy were already working over the buffet table. Gregor cried.

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