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Author Topic: Doghouse  (Read 5934 times)

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Slimebeast

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on: 05:11:27 AM 07/01/13
This was a nice neighborhood before my family moved in.

It wasn't the loud parties my parents held when I was little, or the screeching of tires at all hours of the morning once I was a teenager. No, the neighbors would put up with all of that.

To be honest, the only trouble any of us had ever experienced was the little girl two doors over. She was about six years old, pink ribbons and pig tails, one of those kids that looks sweet until you're wrestling your skateboard from her fat little hands.

On the whole, we never really heard a peep from anyone around us... like there was some sort of unspoken understanding.

The thing that ruined that pact was the shabby little doghouse Pop put together one afternoon.

Pop was driven, that morning. He'd been completely jobless and pulling in disability checks for as long as I'd been alive, so the ferocity with which he tackled this project confused me to no end.

Plus, there was the fact we'd never owned a dog.

"Are we getting a pet?" I asked and Mom joined me at the window, done up in her usual way with a blonde flip hairstyle that nobody wore.

We stared out at Pop, who was hammering together a pair of rotten bits of wood he'd no doubt stolen from that shack at the end of the road. Something about seeing the tall, gaunt man sweating away in the mid-day Sun struck me as very out of place.

"Not that I know of." Mom replied.

"Well my birthday was last week, and Christmas isn't for four months..." I furrowed my brow as Pop stood back to admire the two separate pieces of crap he'd magically united into one.

"He'll sell it, maybe. He's trying his hand at craft projects." Mom nodded slowly, then stopped. Not even she was buying that line of thought.

Pop was starting on the roof of the thing as I slowly walked outside, despite only having two standing walls. As I reached the edge of the back porch, I once again resumed the suspicious gaze I'd perfected inside.

"Pop?" I called out, "What'cha doin'? Building a doghouse?"

Though he regarded my presence with a slight sideways glance, he remained silent.

"Need any help?" I added, sure I'd regret making the offer.

Pop went back to hammering with enough wild abandon to make it impossible to continue our one-sided conversation. He picked up one of the boards at one point, and I could clearly see one side had been painted white. The paint was cracked and peeling, just like that shack I mentioned.

I sat in the shade for a while and watched Pop work. I figured either Mom was calling the Police or an Ambulance or my Uncle. Any way you sliced it, someone would be coming by soon to pull Pop away from the abomination he was busily erecting.

Pop was done by the time Uncle Leo arrived. He was a perpetually red-faced, overweight man with thinning hair. You wanted to laugh at him based on looks alone, but if you ever met him you'd know there was something there that made it seem like a very bad idea.

"Don't bother, Leo," Pop finally spoke, wiping his brow, "I'm already done."

Pop surveyed the doghouse as Uncle Leo shot me a quizzical look. I shot it right back at him.

"Oh! No, wait..." Pop hurriedly retrieved an old and nearly dried out can of black paint from beneath the porch, "One sec..."

Above the oddly-shaped, crooked archway of a door, Pop painted the word "DOG".

"There!" He gestured at his handiwork triumphantly.

Pop seemed fine after that day. He and I went inside with Uncle Leo, and we all sat down in the living room to discuss what was going on.

"Why?" Mom asked.

"Why what?" Pop replied, panting as he sunk into the couch.

"You know 'why what', now answer the lady." Leo chimed in, his red face approaching a shade of purple.

"Why the doghouse? Why now?" Mom added helpfully, not one to sit back an enable confrontation.

"Dog." Pop answered flatly.

"So were are getting one!" I grinned, clapping my hands together, "Awesome!"

"Dogs." Pop seemed to repeat himself.

"More than one?" Mom laughed and shook her head in Uncle Leo's direction, "I don't think we need two."

"Dogs!" Pop insisted, "Dogs and dogs! Ha ha! Dogs and dogs - and dogs!"

At this point, Pop got up from the couch and put his hands to his head as if he'd just realized something.

"The DOGS!" He cried out, as if we'd all forgotten.

Pop raced to the back door, followed quickly by Mom. Uncle Leo wheezed after him, and I lagged behind, completely confused by the spectacle.

"Oh, my goodness!" Mom cooed in a surprised voice as I reached the back door, "How cute!"

As I stuck my head out the door, I immediately spotted the tiny toy poodle rolling around in the grass. Mom and Pop stood over the small white creature, looking down fondly. Uncle Leo was off to the side, and could clearly take or leave the thing.

"I can't believe you did this! She's do dear!" Mom smiled at Pop.

"A dog!" I shouted as I wheeled across the porch, "Our own dog!"

"And that's not all!" Pop said proudly, hands on hips and grinning ear to ear.

We all watched as another small pup, a Pug, emerged cautiously from the doghouse. It surveyed the surroundings, surveyed us, and shyly walked forward. Its tail moved nervously.

At the sight of this second little face, Mom completely lost her shit. She knelt on the grass, marking up her drses, and began carefully petting the Pug.

"Two dogs," Uncle Leo snorted, "Two times the vet bills. Disability gonna cover that?"

"Look!" Pop pointed to the small structure as a third dog emerged.

Then a fourth.

Then six dogs.

Mom was standing again, this time closer to Uncle Leo, as twelve dogs of various shape, size, and breed milled around the yard. Some sniffed and pissed, others played together. A few took one look at my family and bolted into the neighbors' yards.

Twenty dogs.

Thirty dogs, then thirty-five as a Beagle laid out and started having puppies.

Chihuahuas and Irish Wolfhounds mingled with Sheepdogs and Pit Bulls. A steady stream of canines stuck their noses out of the small archway, above which "DOG" had been etched, before striding into the outside world.

We were back on the porch by the time the fifty second dog playfully bounded out of the listing, wobbly miniature hovel.

Well, all of us were up there except for Pop, who gleefully rolled around in the grass, playing with his massing horde of Man's best friend.

"Pop!" I called out, at a complete loss, "What's going on?!"

"Isn't it great?" Pop laughed and baby-talked the animals that were now walking around and over his quivering mass, "I always wanted a dog! I always wanted some dogs! I always wanted all the dogs!"

Mom put her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide, and went into the house.

"I have all the dogs!" Pop called out.

Uncle Leo had passed that slight shade of purple, and his head now closely resembled a prize-winning Eggplant, both vividly colored and enormous in size.

He always seemed to know what to do in bad situations, and this seemed no different.

"Fuck this." He muttered.

Leo walked to Pop's shed, carefully maneuvering amid the sea of what must've been a hundred or more dogs at this point. A few yelps and growls rose up from the furry carpet, which only elicited profanities from the man. Uncle Leo quickly flung the shed open and took only a moment to spot the item he wanted.

"Insane shit." Uncle Leo snarled as he crossed the yard again, this time toting a sledgehammer.

"No!" Pop called out, unable to stop laughing, "Don't!"

Pop tried to get up, tried to stop what was about to happen, but he was repeatedly tripped up and dragged down by his overzealous playmates.

"Here were go!" Uncle Leo raised the hammer high and prepared to swing it. The crappy little doghouse was clearly no match for him. He probably could've kicked it down if he'd been one for physical exertion.

Before Uncle Leo could do the deed... before he could bring the hammer down... he let out a sharp yelp. It was a blood-curdling, disturbingly inhuman shriek I'd never heard before and haven't heard since.

He dropped the hammer, sending a cluster of dogs scrambling.

It wasn't his fault. He could've bashed that thing to bits. He could've stemmed the tide of dogs and saved the neighborhood... the town... maybe even the world from this ever-growing wall of barking, nipping hell-spawn.

He could've done it, if not for the Wolf that rocketed from the door and ripped open his belly. Fueled by blood lust, or some ancient pack mentality, a good number of the others joined in.

Pop always wanted a dog, I guess.

All the dogs.

Infinite dogs.

Forever.
If I should live until I wake, I pray the web my death to fake.



Ivan.Stragonov

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on: 05:17:46 AM 07/30/13
Is this the prelude to Dogscape?



Slimebeast

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on: 01:13:29 PM 07/30/13
It is if you want it to be! :D
If I should live until I wake, I pray the web my death to fake.



Felix Theo Wren

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on: 10:17:51 AM 07/31/13
Did you allude to this story in Stalking Ancestor, or is that something completely different [..a man with three buttocks]?
Teie sõbralik kassimees naabrusest :D

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Slimebeast

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on: 07:18:44 PM 07/31/13
I - wha
If I should live until I wake, I pray the web my death to fake.



Thenarius

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on: 11:33:48 AM 09/01/15
i kind of did'nt get it.



Vertex

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on: 08:55:18 PM 09/12/15
Dogs are cute.