You'd think I'd get a break. Seriously, I've been abandoned, looked two Jacks in the mouth, and witnessed a giant, metal-plated snake within the last 24 hours. But nope, just as Tank plowed his way onto a road along the edge of an unused crop field, Rex shows his ugly face.

Tank stops short, nearly throwing me off. Rex lies in the field, half dozing in the afternoon sun. He lifts his nose to the sky, blind eye toward us, and sniffs the breeze. He's relaxed and without a care. Shreds of entrails and meat hang from between his teeth.

Tank doesn't know what to do. I kick him in the sides, begging him to start running. He throws his head from side to side, snot whipping from his weezing nostrils. Underneath his heavy coat, he's sweating, and it stinks. I dig my heals between his ribs, and he roars.

Rex looks our way. He sniffs the air again, bearing his teeth. In my panic, I kick Tank harder, but he doesn't move. He's sweating more, almost soaking through the hair. Rex stands up and lumbers his way towards us, almost lazily.

Tank is starting to really smell. It's like someone threw a freshly dead skunk into a bag of garbage and left it out in the hot sun all summer before throwing it in the sewer. It's overwhelming, and I gag. Rex gets ten yards away, lowers his head, and taks a big whiff of Tank's sweat. He growls, repulsed, and turns from us. In moments, he's dissapeared.

The End

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