What Happens When The Dog STOPS Talking?

Two lawyers, a bank president, a farmer, and a hypnotist were sitting in a jail cell late one evening, passing the time with idle chat.

“We had it all worked out,” said one of the lawyers. “Gather the family for the reading of the will, inform them they had to spend the night in that creepy old mansion to get their share of the money, then scare them off one by one until the money was all ours.”

“It was a perfect plan,” said the second lawyer.

“Almost perfect,” the first lawyer sighed. “Those kids really threw a monkey wrench into the works.”

“Did you say kids?” The bank president showed a sudden interest in their story and added, “It was a group of kids that cost me everything I had!”

The lawyers exchanged a glance and one of them urged, “Go on.”

“Well,” the bank president continued, “I’d been embezzling funds from my branch. Not much. Nothing anyone would miss, really.” The farmer, from his shadowy corner of the cell, chuckled darkly and shook his head.

The banker continued. “Anyway, I would’ve paid it all back if I’d had the chance. I swear!” The farmer, familiar with bankers and their empty promises, laughed out loud.

The banker pressed on. “All I had to do was destroy the evidence of my guilt. Everything could’ve gone back to normal. But then these teenagers showed up, trapped me in a bale of hay, and ruined everything. They could have killed me! Stupid, interfering kids and their lousy mutt!”

“Now hold on there,” the farmer stopped laughing and addressed the banker directly. “Did you say these kids had a dog with ‘em?”

“Yes. A big dog,” said the banker. “Why?” The farmer’s mouth hung open in astonishment.

“I think those were the same kids that ruined my life,” he declared. “Four of ‘em…and a dog!” The others in the room all sat up and started listening more intently.

“I had this plan to scare my neighbor off his land so’s I could sell it and make a fortune,” the farmer explained. His fellow inmates nodded their heads, mumbling their approval of the scheme.

“But then these kids and their dog show up, and the next thing you know, I’m hanging on for dear life in a wind tunnel, barely able to catch my breath, and my clothes are being sucked right off my body!”

Both lawyers and the banker looked horrified at the farmer’s tale, but the hypnotist eyed them all cautiously before opening his mouth.

“Are none of you going to say it?” he hesitated before continuing, “The dog.” Another pause, then a whisper, “It could talk.”

A statement like that, under any other circumstance, in front of any other group of people, might have brought uncomfortable laughter or even jeers of ridicule. But the lawyers, banker, and farmer just sat there in silence, the same look clouding all of their features: A flash of relief, followed by a creeping grimace of terror.

Up until that moment, most of them had convinced themselves they’d imagined the talking dog. The pressure of their illegal schemes getting to them, or a trick the teenagers had played on them. Or maybe it was something worse. Maybe they’d begun to lose their minds.

But when the hypnotist mentioned the talking dog, the rest of them became keenly aware of two things: They weren’t crazy, and they’d all come in contact with something unnatural that had no right to exist in their reality.

“I can see it in your eyes,” the hypnotist shouted. “You all heard it! You heard that dog talk. And laugh. That insidious, unhinged snickering.”

After a brief, shocked silence, the farmer piped up. “I knew it! I knew I wasn’t crazy!”

“But what…” One of the lawyers was having an uncharacteristically difficult time forming words. “What does it all mean? How is it possible?”

“I don’t understand it any better than you,” the hypnotist said. “The hippie and his demon dog somehow hypnotized me into thinking I was some sort of monkey. I’d eaten twelve bananas before my head cleared.” The hypnotist gripped his stomach in discomfort as it gurgled loudly. “After that, everything is a blur. But I’ll tell you all this…I don’t think he’s done with us.”

The comment hung in the air for a bit before the farmer nervously asked, “Wha-what do you mean? Not done with us?”

“Think,” the hypnotist whispered. “A talking dog is a preposterous concept. It defies reason. Yet a group of ordinary teenagers we’ve all run afoul of — regardless of how disconnected and disparate our lives are — somehow embraces the idea and, further, travels with this aberration as their trusted companion?” He paused to let the absurdity of it sink in.

“Gentlemen, I posit this…this thing may, in fact, be some sort of evil, shape-shifting entity with powers far beyond that which we ourselves witnessed. Would a being that powerful limit itself to the position of pet to a group of dimwitted slackers? Or is it somehow guiding their actions? Perhaps they are under its thrall.” The others looked at each other nervously. “A simple house pet? Hardly. This creature has far more grand designs. And I’m afraid we may soon find out the dark depths of them.”

The men sat there, wrestling with abstract notions beyond their comprehension, and pondering their fate. Then, in the quiet of the small town night, just outside the barred window of their cell, through which the glow of the moon provided the only light, the five men heard a strange sound. A rustling in the shrubs outside the jail. And then, starting soft and low, but building in volume and intensity…an insidious, unhinged snickering. And all at once, their blood ran cold.

If you want to see us put together the latest round of Scooby Doo rogues, you can see this week’s video at the link below.