The hounds of the megachurch were set loose

The hounds of the megachurch were set loose on the congregation. To develop the hounds' checkered past, would you accept a side quest entitled "Houndpups Lose Sanity at PetSmart"?

"Yes!" yelled the excited school children. It was story time again and the children had found a comfortable place to sit or lay on the floor whilst listening intently about hounds

and making models using bubblegum. Although their teacher was actually not a teacher, they

were not actually students. In fact, this was not a school and they would not be earning grades, degrees, or recognition of any sorts for their actions. What would

really be funny is if we put Yakov Smirnov in charge. While this looks like a college, it is not. It is a total sham. These students are actors, this apple? Wax. This is a comedy

fiasco. And Smirnov? "It's Putin. A master of disguise. And that mofo can down more cheap vodka in an hour than you could in a lifetime." He extinguished the cigar against his

palm, and I swear you could hear the sizzling of his flesh burning from the cigar. It kind of gave me the wiggins. "Wanna bet?" I asked him. I grabbed the Popov vodka from the

rotting barrel and took a swig. He really was a piece of shit and I despised him for it.

I took another swig. Come to think of it, I'd shared my last quarter with rotting Ronny to buy a lottery ticket. I began rummaging in his pockets when Officer Plod strode up.

"Oi!" he said. I looked at him, uninterested. "Oi!" he said again. This time I gave him my full attention, for he seemed serious. "You won," was all he said. And he walked away.