for Jobe!
Jobe and the guys do respond to requests you know?! . . . . . . .
The setting, England, the late 1800's. We open the scene, in an old apparent abandoned cabin. What little light is available is provided by the full moon. Lying next to a fire place with no fire going is a mangy looking dog, cold and hungry, lost alone in his thoughts. "Damn, he thinks, he's out there ravaging, plundering, and scaring the shit out of the locals. Meanwhile this bastard has left me with an old hand bone that I've been chewing on for two fucking weeks. Heaven forbid he would light a fire to keep this shit hole warm, but we all know he's afraid of fire, lame ass. Why can't he cook us up a big pot of gruel? Oh yeah, the fire thing. Goddamn, if there was another cabin around I'd bolt in a second, but I'm afraid of his so called friend Larry Talbot eating me. Speaking of that shithead Talbot, last time he was here that fuck tried to hump my leg. I'm famished. Guess I'll have to go out by the old graveyard and dig up one of those old gamy legs I buried a couple of months ago. But you know, fuck it, first I'm gonna shit on this old rag he calls a rug. He'll probably spank me but that prick has it coming, why he would take me in is beyond me. We never play fetch anymore and I have to fight him over any piece of thigh he brings. Well the sun is starting to come up so he'll be home soon. Hope he terrified the locals or I'm gonna be in for a world of shit. So goes the mind of Frankenstein's dog.
Gothic Horror? Don’t mind if’n I do! . . . . . . . who you calling a Barbarian!? R-U-D-E-!
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