Ted mulled over his 25 year old reflection in the misted mirror. He stood sideways, studying his flexed arm and saw some movement beneath the Christmas fat he has acquired. Must get rid of that, he thought to himself. Altogether though, despite the growing beer gut, he wasn’t looking too bad. He knew he would have to do something soon though, or he would become just like his ex-boss. High blood pressure, heavy smoker, coffee drinker (one cup a day says the doctor – how do you like my new 1 litre cup?). Ted sneered at his opposite number in the glass. Not for him. At least he knew it was happening, and it wouldn’t be too late if he did something now.
He heard a sound outside, through the open window. It was probably the next-door neighbour’s dog snuffling around on the other side of the fence. The dog was a strange creature. At first he had identified it as some variation on a bull terrier, and then decided that this was only half right – perhaps a pit bull. Then a friend of his pointed out that it had the look of a Labrador crossed with a bull terrier. Half right indeed, but still, he hated it. And now the bloody thing was outside, just on the other side of the fence.
Ted’s eyes cast over the book he was currently dedicating his valuable throne time to. The cover was slightly obscured, but it showed the drooling fangs of a Saint Bernard and the “STE” and “ING” of the author’s name. Fuck off Ted, you’re scaring yourself now. He stopped pretending to admire his body in the mirror and cocked his head to the side, trying to get a closer feel for the sound. There it was again. It was definitely not a snuffling sound, and yet his own little yap dog hadn’t started barking yet, so it must just be the neighbour’s dog, trying to get comfortable for the night.
He glanced over at his watch. The green liquid crystal read 3:12. Fuck, it’s getting late, old man. He had to be awake at 8am, and God knew he needed sleep after the Christmas season. Scrooge didn’t have a penny on Ted’s opinion of Christmas, and yet …
The noise startled him. It was now directly outside the window. No doubt about it. He was locked in the bathroom as was his habit when showering. He knew the sound but could not place it. It was similar to the noise you make when you scrape your feet after walking in mud. But it was slow, drawn out. There you go again, scaring yourself. It’s nothing. Ted decided to stop drinking a glass of vodka before bed from now on. He was freaking himself out over noises in the dark. Ridiculous. They’d laugh at him at work.
Ted unlocked and opened the door slowly, trying to keep noise down from his side. He didn’t want to tempt fate, after all. Unfortunately for him, the intruder who had been carving Ted’s name in the other side of the door was waiting for him. The scalpel went straight for his jugular, and the only other living creature who heard Ted scream was outside the window, trying to get in to help him. Eventually the half Labrador, half bull terrier gave up and died in his own pool of blood, whimpering his last breath.
Vanity annoyed the intruder, as he switched off the light. He thought back to a movie he’d seen about the seven deadly sins and let out in a dry, sardonic cough that would have made Ted’s scrotum shrivel up. Too late, she cried, thought the intruder, and coughed his laugh again. How touching, how ironic. Ted was an easy target. His love for himself made him an easy target. The intruder was actually surprised that he had not found Ted with his hands otherwise occupied, but that would have been too easy. Too easy indeed.
It wasn’t vanity that brought the intruder into the house. The murder wouldn’t have happened either, but for the dogs, it was necessary. The intruder moved quietly through the house, knowing every step, every obstacle. One would assume he had lived here, but he thought to himself that people who lived in houses usually still managed to walk their shins into tables. People were generally clumsy.
He reached the kitchen, pulled a wooden stool towards the centre of the room in one fluid movement, and mounted on it in a crouch. He slowly stood and reached up with his long arms to the ceiling. The panel came away easily, and he quietly pushed it aside inside the ceiling. Very quickly, he flashed a cloth-dimmed flashlight at the opening. Sure enough, the dull reflection on a lead surface shone back in his eyes.
The intruder reached up once again, grunting softly as he pulled the heavy object off the beams it was balanced on and took the weight. He temporarily lost his balance, and almost crashed to the floor with his treasure. Not that it mattered, but he liked to be careful all the same, and this was being stupid. He cursed himself under his breath and balanced the weight of the heavy object as he moved off the stool. He placed it on the ground, stood up on the stool to replace the ceiling panel, and was mildly surprised to hear a growl from the ground. The vain fool probably had two dogs. Who knew? The plan was slowly unravelling, but the intruder didn’t let it show.
He looked down in the darkness to the floor. The second growl was more fierce, but still restrained. The intruder decided against killing the dog outright. The gurgling sound was usually all too short. People died with less grace, but it was more fun to watch. Besides, people had more blood in them than dogs.
As he alighted from the stool, the object near the floor snapped at his heel. It managed to rip through the legging of the night suit the intruder was wearing, and sink at least three teeth into the meaty flesh below. The intruder growled in reply, a sound so ancient and foreboding, that the dog gave up, pissed on the floor, and ran to the bathroom to howl at his master. Damn it! The noise would rouse the neighbours. The intruder, now limping slightly, chased after the dog. When he got to it, he gutted it with one swipe of the scalpel. The gurgling was more prolonged this time, which pleased him. It wasn’t so bad after all.
Without so much as a cursory glance at his bleak and black surroundings, the intruder ran back to the kitchen, pulled a knapsack out of his jacket, and placed the leaden object inside. After lifting the bag onto his back and doing the Velcro straps over his shoulders, he made a stealthy exit through the back door, skipping over the prone form of the neighbour’s dog as he made off into the night with his prize.
Behind him, he left a dead man, three dead dogs, a slight footprint in the pool of blood left by the last dog, and his blood type on the dog’s teeth. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter at all. Hundreds of dogs began howling as his coughing laugh broke the silence of the moonless night.