Don’s heart shuddered violently and he let out a loud yelp before collapsing to the ground in the armadillo position. His nose pressed against the soft green grass as he clasped his hands around his head. There was nowhere to hide.
“What are you doing, boy?” Stak grumbled with his revolver still clasped in his meaty man hands.
“Please don’t kill me good sir,” Don cried in a pallid wheeze.
“Why would I kill you? What have you done?” Stak lowered his arm.
Don groaned, “Uh, I don’t know.”
“Get up, you look sad down there.”
Don looked up at the man-beast and hesitantly got to his feet while keeping his distance from that gun. “How do you know my name?” he asked.
“All will be revealed in due time. I’m sure you have many questions,” Stak’s voice jumped as his free hand made the arduous trip from his side to the trap door in the ground. “I’ll begin with telling you why I have this gun.”
“That would be nice, I suppose,” Don said. His hands tensed up to his chest and he defensively pointed a shoulder at Stak.
“For criminy, boy. I’m not here to hurt you! Now, get in the hole,” Stak threw open the trap door and ushered a deeply disturbed Don inwards. He wasn’t going to argue with the gun holder.
“Okay, to begin with, this gun is here to protect us when night comes.”
“Protect us from what?”
“The tooth fairy,” the animal on Stak’s shoulder let out a solemn howl.
“The tooth fairy?” Don mumbled. He finally made it to the bottom of the ladder, to see a dark room with walls made of mud, four lone candles on either side to light it up and one dark door at the end.
Stak jumped down beside him, causing the earth to shake and boom. Don stepped back as the dust settled.
“Is this your house?” he asked.
“Nope. This house belongs to Madam Slime.”