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--With 9 alive, it takes 5 to lynch.

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--With 9 alive, it takes 5 to lynch.

Battery power:

Unovte, Vote: IceGuy

--With 9 alive, it takes 5 to lynch.


Battery power:

Sixty yawned. The puppy really didn't see what was so interesting about the senseless picture window that Stahp kept staring at; it didn't have enough crickets or clouds to spy on. The little fuzzball stretched a bit on top of the couch and then began burying itself in the crease in the cushions between the seat and the backboard, claws first.

Stahp came in a few minutes later, grabbed the remote, and carelessly flopped onto the couch - and then quickly jumped off the couch at the sound of a loud yelping noise. After Stahp's heart stopped racing, he located the puppy, who was now hiding behind the couch in the smallest puppyloaf it could make. Then he looked over the couch and the tears in the fabric from a certain dog's claws. Stahp was no tailor, and like HELL if he was going to get another couch because his stupid dog ruined it.

So Stahp got the crate that he used for Sixty's trip to the veterinarian and set it in the living room. Then, he got a little brown bone-shaped doggie treat and held it in his hand. Sixty heard the biscuit box being rattled and peeked out from behind the couch. Stahp called Sixty's name and held the little morsel at mouth-level. Sixty very carefully padded toward the Foodgiver, its eyes not leaving the prize. Just as Sixty got close enough, Stahp grabbed the puppy, pocketed the biscuit, deposited Sixty in the cage, and shut the door. That was where Sixty spent the rest of the day.

Sixty didn't whimper, but just slumped there.

Night 3 begins now.

Evening had come, and Sixty pranced its little way back inside. The puppy made a show of hopping above the floor with only two paws touching the ground at a time. Then suddenly Sixty stopped. Something was WRONG. Sixty scrunched up its face and tilted its head side to side, annoyed by something.

After a few seconds, the little pup started to walk forward again but abruptly halted again. Sixty shook its head vigorously, its ears flapping against its head, but it didn't have any discernible effect other than the jingle of the puppy's collar and a faint rattling sound inside its cranium. In mild frustration, Sixty crouched down, tucked its head to the side, and began clawing at its left ear for whatever relief could be had.

Stahp literally stopped breathing for a moment.

The bewildered, tortured dog was hustled back outside and Stahp fled in his metalmobile. Sixty knew that when Stahp went away like that, it would be all alone for a while. With a little puppyshrug, the puppy began running around the backyard to while the time away. It nosed at the chunk of tennis ball that was left, but it didn't do anything interesting. The plushie had been taken away after it was reduced to an empty bag of cloth. In time Sixty wandered over to the fence, made a biiiiiiiig yawn, and reclined into a watchful napping pose, diligently working on ignoring that pesky itching sensation.

Stahp came back in due time with a metal basin and two strange containers of some sort. The tall feeding one filled up the basin with the water from the hose, pouring something from the first container in as he did so, and coaxed Sixty to come closer. The puppy willingly did it, because it looked like the petting position! Stahp grabbed the puppy with one arm and held it close while reaching for the other container.

The stuff that got squeezed out of the container smelled -weird-... Sixty immediately began squirming, but it was far too late. Stahp began caking every bit of the puppy with the foul substance, tangling with the dog as it frantically tried to escape. In the end, Sixty lost the arms war against Stahp and was thoroughly coated in some unmentionable gook. Stahp then picked the puppy up and dropped it into the basin as well as he could given that the puppy desperately tried to keep at least two legs from entering the cold, puffy... was that even water? It looked toxic and probably was. Stahp twisted a little to get Sixty's forelegs in but the hind legs backed up and out.

The now-soaked feeder-washer-person let go briefly in order to pull the desperate pooch back in, and Sixty took the opportunity to hop out and make a break for it. Slipping right out of its assailant's hands, the puppy ran a few feet away and shook violently, though no amount of fluffing out could possibly erase all of that... whatever it was. Sixty was too slow to escape Stahp again, though, and found itself under most of a somewhat disgruntled washer-meanie-person's weight in the tub again. The puppy endured a very cold and very antiseptic-smelling petting in what looked like agonized silence.

Stahp could only take a few minutes of the washing before finally deciding enough of the soap had gotten out, and let Sixty go. Like a spring, the puppy leapt out of the tub and ran like a tiger was chasing it. Wide-eyed and desperately thinking IN, DAMNED SPOT, the puppy found a relatively flat knoll and began rolling around frantically. Within thirty minutes, Sixty's coat was three shades of brownish-black darker than it was before the bath.

Stahp sighed. Sixty sighed.

--With 7 alive, it takes 4 to lynch.

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Vote:Parama

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vote: Panzer