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Pastimes : Muffy's Story: A Short Story Game for Would Be Authors -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Robert C. Petersen who wrote (23)	6/15/1998 4:11:00 PM
From: TEDennis	Respond to of 766

The Humane Society attendant was very happy to see Muffy. They're happy to see anybody who will take these pets off their hands. Muffy walked slowly through the kennels, slowly examining each and every one of the many dogs they had up for adoption. None of them fulfilled her need. Then, as she was ready to leave without selecting one, the attendant invited her to go with him to the back of the building. Muffy, having been initiated into the world of male dominance, thought twice about it. "It's OK", he said. "We have some pets back here that are destined for the glue factory." Muffy followed him, and as soon as they walked through the heavy metal door, she spied the most pitiful being she had ever seen. It only had 3 legs. His ears were all scarred up from having been in many fights. And, it was obviously hungry. "This is it!", cried Muffy. "Oh, no ... not that one", replied the attendant. "It's sick". "No, I'm absolutely sure. This is it. I'll call him 'Shorty'." Muffy ran home with her new pet. The apartment manager was displeased with the new addition, but when he saw how happy they both were, he let Muffy keep Shorty. When Muffy removed Shorty's collar to give him his first bath in his new home, she noticed something engraved in the leather on the underside of it. She peered closely. It said ...

To: Robert C. Petersen who wrote (23)	6/15/1998 4:18:00 PM
From: E	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 766

"6-19-74/FBNA/USAW" The faint familiarity of the numbers comforted her, somehow, although in her conscious mind she could not place them. She felt a warm affection for the mutt, whose haplessness reminder her of her own. ...and yet...could even a really really adorable dog help her now, at a time when, due to the inordinate stress in her life, her very mind was playing cruel tricks on her? Why, earlier in the day, she had thought for a moment that Daddy Mensa bore a physical resemblance to Daddy Warbucks, when she, (and all who knew him,) knew full well that "The Mensa representative was a young, virile male, about 6'2". Dark hair. Muscular build. Obviously a body builder. He was wearing a "Chicago Bulls" jersey..." I can still remember every detail about him!, she thought, so why am I suffering these delusions that he resembles people who in fact bear no resemblance to him at all!! It must, she decided, be the stress not only from the, well, challenges to her resolve to remain pure in thought as well as deed that she had recently confronted, but also because the market was tanking and every stock in her portfolio (to say nothing of her clients') except Wavephore had ended that day in the red! It was almost too much. She decided to enter her tumultuous thoughts into her personal diary, but she recalled those words of wisdom... where had she read them...was it perhaps Mark Twain, who had expressed his opinion that anyone who wrote without being paid for it was a fool?! Again and again, Muffy smacked her throbbing head against the keyboard of her computer. Not lightly, either. Really hard!