THE DOG FIGHTER (standard:horror, 4954 words)
Author: Mason Hung	Added: Feb 26 2008	Views/Reads: 3149/2178	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
It's about an animal abuser who ends up trading places with the animals he abused.In the end he becomes a major advocate for animal rights.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

“Alright Mikey, It's good to meet you. How about I go buy us a round of 
beer so we can all get to know each other?” “Sounds good to me.”  He 
replied 

While Kandy walked over to the bar, Trixie took the opportunity to
become more acquainted with Mike. “So what's a guy like you doing in a 
bar, all by yourself, on a Sunday night?” “I'm just enjoying the view 
and celebrating a successful fight.” “Well, shouldn't your dog be here 
too, since he was the one who was actually fighting.” Mike couldn't 
tell if she were trying to be sarcastic or serious. “I don't know 
Trixie. I don't think they serve dogs alcohol in here.” He said 
jokingly “That sucks. They should let dogs drink if they want to. Isn't 
that a violation against their civil rights or something?” Obviously, 
Trixie wasn't the brightest bulb in the house. But what she lacked in 
brains, she more than made up for with a deliciously blessed figure. 

Kandy came back to the table with three Coronas in her hands. When she
handed Mike his beer, he noticed that she'd conveniently  removed the 
cap for him. Mike thought to himself, “This is how a man of my position 
should be treated by beautiful girls. Like a god among kings. Like a 
bloody freaking god!” Yeah right. Five empty beer bottles later, Mike 
was drunker than an Irish sailor on Saint Patrick's day. He was barley 
even able to hold himself up at the table. This was somewhat odd 
because he religiously consumed at least a liter of vodka every night 
before going to bed. Mike had been a full blown alcoholic since his 
high school days, back in the early 90's. Normally he could drink 
anyone under the table while passing a police sobriety test and deep 
throating a bottle of tequila. This time was different. There was 
something really dark brewing with his new found female friends. 
Unfortunately for him, he was too wasted to notice. 

“So, what do you say Mikey? How about you come back to our house for
desert? I'm sure Trixie wouldn't mind. Would you Trixie?” “No, I don't 
mind. It might be fun.” “See Mikey, Trixie doesn't mind. Let's go have 
some fun.” 

Mike who would've done anything at this point, agreed to go along with
them. The women got on each one of his sides to help him stand up from 
the table. He stumbled through the bar knocking down any and everything 
that dared to cross his path; he had become an ape in a pottery shop. 
Once outside, Mike's intoxicated symptoms intensified, and he passed 
out cold in the parking lot. Kandy knelt down on the ground beside him. 
“Don't worry Mikey. The fun is just beginning.” 

This poor inebriated fool didn't know what was happening as he drifted
off into la la land. That night Mike dreamed he was running aimlessly 
thru a cotton field with a hungry pack of wild hogs closing in on him. 
Every time he turned around to see how close they were, their numbers 
would double in size. This continued  until there were hundreds upon 
hundreds of them in pursuit. Suddenly, a blazing bolt of lightning 
struck the ground. All of the hogs were now dead with their bodies 
engulfed in flames. The cotton fields burned like a spicy Mexican meal 
during a late night bowel movement. Just as he was about to be 
swallowed up by this raging wildfire, the crazy dream was over. 

He woke up the following morning naked in somebody's backyard  with his
face submerged inside a muddy puddle of water. The rain was still 
falling relentlessly from the sky. Floods were being reported from all 
over the city. It was a miracle that Mike didn't drown while 
unconscious. He was truly fortunate to be alive. However, there was 
something that just wasn't right. I don't know. Maybe it was the fact 
that he'd been chained up butt naked to a tree, sitting next to a empty 
dog house with a padlock hanging around his neck. That would be my 
guess. Mike , who was confused on how he'd got there, did what anyone 
would've done in that situation, he freaked out. “Oh my God! Somebody 
please help me! Save me! Please Jesus! God somebody help me!” 

After a certifiable shameless effort of jumping around while screaming
for help, he was relieved to see a trio of men coming from the house 
whose yard he was in. Thank God for that, right? It was an older 
gentleman along with two younger guys that came to see what all the 
commotion was about. The old man's name was Gus. He had this irritated 
inbred army drill sergeant look going on. A real intimidating guy. His 
presence alone made Mike regret those desperate pleas for help. The 
other two men were Gus's identical twin son's, Larry and Barry. Now 
these two muscle bound  apes were your typical country boys. Husky, 
roughneck men with not that much going on upstairs. You know the type. 
Probably raised as kids on a strict diet of excessive pork fat and 
greasy hot water cornbread. Obviously not the kind of people you look 
forward to having a fair fight with. 

“What seems to be the problem Mikey boy?” Gus asked with an arrogant
tone in his voice. “What am I doing here, and how do you know my name?” 
“I guess those are fair enough questions. My two nieces, Kandy and 
Trixie, brought you over here last night. They told me that you had 
potential. So I paid them two thousand dollars for you, my friend. 
Normally I don't pay that much cash for an unproven fighter. But as you 
know, they're really sweet girls. Besides, they both can really use the 
money. So it's no problem.” “Basically you're telling me that I'm being 
held hostage?” Mike asked unable to fully grasp the reality of his 
situation. “No Mikey boy. Don't get your drawers all caught up in a 
bunch. Basically what I'm telling you is that I'm your master and 
you're my dog.” 

Mike couldn't believe what he was hearing. These men must have been
crazy if they thought that he was going down without a fight. 

“Your dog? I got your dog right here you old bastard! Come get him!”
“Settle down Mikey boy. Don't bite the hands that feeds you.” “This is 
your last warning old man! Take one more step towards me and I'll beat 
the arthritis out of you!” Gus laughed at Mike's threats as if he had 
heard them many times before. “I hear you Mikey boy. I hope there's a 
hard bite to go along with that loud bark of yours. If not, you're 
about to be in a whole heap of trouble. You boy's take him in the house 
and let's trim him up.” 

Larry walked over to Mike, grabbed him around his throat then slammed
him on the ground. The air in Mike's lungs jumped up out of his chest 
and took off running down the street. Barry followed up the assault 
with a vicious stomp across Mike's face with the heel of his muddy 
steel toe boot. Satisfied that he was unconscious Barry unhooked his 
chain, dragged him by his feet across the backyard, around the side of 
the house, up the front porch steps and thru the front door. 

Once inside  the house, Barry laid Mike across the kitchen table so that
the trimming process could begin. Larry held Mike's legs down on the 
table while Barry firmly held on to both of his arms. Gus showed up at 
the table wearing a chef's apron. He had a razor sharp pair of surgical 
scissors in his right hand along with a butchers knife hanging out one 
of the deep pockets on his apron. Gus gently opened Mike's mouth, 
pulled his tongue out as far as it would stretch and cut it as deep 
across the center as he could. The severed piece of tongue shot across 
the room like a popped rubber band. Mike jumped up screaming for Jesus 
in thirteen different languages while the twins worked hard to hold him 
down on the table. As they fought to keep him still, Gus took the 
butchers knife and hacked off all ten of his fingers. Everyone standing 
around the table were sprayed with blood. There was nothing left of 
Mike's hands other than his torn up knuckles attached to their purple 
bruised palms. Gus hurried over to the opposite end of the table. Just 
when Mike thought that the agony couldn't get any worse, Gus brutally 
cut off both of his feet. It actually took a few swings of the knife to 
completely remove his feet, because cutting thru ankles and tendons 
Isn't as easy as one might think. Larry stacked the removed body parts 
in the corner like a neat pile of freshly shucked corn ears. The ugly 
sounds coming out of Mike's mouth, along with the horrible smells 
inside the kitchen, painted a nightmarish picture of his immediate 
future. 

Once the trimming procedure was finished, there was more blood flowing
out of Mike's open wounds than cheap champagne at a wedding reception. 
The bleeding had to be stopped immediately or he would surely die from 
the massive blood loss.  To stop the bleeding, Gus used an old family 
remedy, which had been passed down from previous generations. From  the 
stovetop burner, he grabbed a large frying pan, filled with scalding 
hot fish grease . Next, he poured the grease over the gaping wounds on 
Mike's hands and legs. The smell of sizzling flesh lingered heavily 
throughout the house. Mike knew that if the loss of blood didn't kill 
him, then the pain probably would. 

“It's almost over now Mikey boy.” Gus said as he poured a small amount
of grease into Mike's mouth to seal up the whole where his tongue use 
to be. At this point Mike's screams were so disturbingly awful that 
even demons in hell were praying to God for the abuse to stop. “He's 
had enough Barry, turn his lights off.” 

Following his fathers orders, Barry delivered two devastating punches to
the side of Mike's head that left him unconscious for days. From 
beginning to end, the entire process was extremely gruesome but very 
necessary. His fingers were removed because they were illegal to use in 
a fight. One accidental poke in the eye would result in an automatic 
loss of money. His feet were cut off so that he would be forced to 
fight on his knees. Which was another rule of the fight business which, 
if broken, would result in an automatic loss of money. His tongue was 
cut out simply because it was believed to make a fighter more 
aggressive. The more aggressive the fighter, the better chance he had 
of winning the fight. Which meant much more money in Gus's pockets. 
Like I said before, It's a dog eat dog world out here. Sometime people 
do horrible things to have the extras in life. So who are you to be 
concerned? As long as it's not happening in front of your face, it 
might as well not be happening at all. Am I right? 

Meanwhile, four days later, Mike awaken from his nightmare chained up to
the tree in the backyard. It was still raining heavily outside. The 
ground was so soaked that if you stood in one spot for too long, you 
could literally feel yourself sinking into the earth. The tips of 
Mike's burned limbs were leaking out a thick white puss  from 
underneath the burnt scabs. This foul smelling discharge attracted a 
bunch of disease carrying cockroaches  and shit eating horseflies who 
were relentless in their attempts to get a taste. Mike, who couldn't 
call out to anyone because of his abducted tongue, began howling at the 
top of his lungs for some assistance. Barry came sprinting out of the 
house to check on his wounded warrior. 

“I can't believe you made it Mikey. We thought you were a goner there
for a minute.” Mike's body began to tremble uncontrollably. The 
sickening fear of his heartless captors was getting the best of him. 
“It's okay Mikey boy, I know that you're scared, but you can trust me, 
I'll take care of you. We're going to be best friends.” He said while 
patting Mike on top of his head. “That's a good boy. Yes, you are. We 
just have to get you into some kind of shape real quick or we got some 
hard times coming.” 

Mike thought to himself, “I should get up from here and bite you on the
face, you inbred pipe choker.” “I know what you're thinking Mikey boy. 
What the heck does this crazy guy have planned for me now? But you have 
to trust me. Everything we do from here on out will keep you alive, I 
promise.” 

This promise changed the way Mike viewed his new owner. Because if you
look under the foundation of life you'll see that all living things 
have one main objective. From the lonely tadpoles feeding on the waters 
edge to the soulless drug addicts pretending to be normal people, which 
is probably a larger number than you would think, we all strive to 
survive. Mike was no different, he was only a man. 

After a stomach filling meal of cold corn mush and an old rusty bowl
filled with warm rain water, it was time to start working on physical 
conditioning. Barry began by chaining Mike up to three large cement 
blocks. He dragged those blocks by his neck, back and forth across the 
yard, until Barry felt that he'd gone beyond his limit. Next, he 
introduced him to the treadmill. Mike was forced to crawl at a brisk 
pace, non stop, for sixty minutes. There were moments when Mike thought 
that he was going to die from exhaustion. But Barry wouldn't allow him 
to quit, it just wasn't an option. After that, there was a tire hanging 
from a tree limb, by a rope, in the backyard. Mike was made to leap up 
and latch onto the tire, hanging in mid air until his mouth could no 
longer hold his body weight. This was done to strengthen his jaw 
muscles, making Mikey a stronger fighter. He continued this grueling 
work out routine three times a day, seven days a week, for the next 
four weeks. Mike felt like a weapon of mass destruction. However, the 
time had come for him to either put up or shut up. His destiny had 
arrived. 

The first fight of his career would be witnessed by about fifty people,
including his owners, on the back of an abandoned warehouse. Gus bet 
three thousand dollars of his hard earned money that Mike would win the 
fight. Even though the weather was harsh, Gus was confident that Mike 
would come out of it with a victory. As the referee began to start the 
fight, Barry attempted to quickly motivate Mike to destroy the young 
skinny man that was standing in front of him. 

“This is what it's all about Mikey boy! You have to bully him all the
way!” “Fighters! Fight on my command!” The referee announced. “Go hard! 
Don't stop attacking! You have to be the bully Mikey boy! You have to 
be the bully!” “Fight!” The referee shouted. “Get him Mikey!” 

Mike came flying out of the corner on his fingerless hands and scarred
up knees like a crippled bat out of hell. This aggressive plan of 
attack caught his slender opponent completely off guard. Mike rushed in 
locking his powerful jaws around the man's throat with cruel 
intentions. Then he visualized himself biting deep into that tire 
hanging from the tree in Gus's backyard. This caused his grip to become 
even tighter, which ultimately resulted in his opponent's Adam apple 
snapping in half. The pain was so intense that the slender guy pissed 
all over himself, curled up in the fetal position on the soggy wet 
ground and died. The crowd went absolutely crazy underneath the 
depressing rainfall. A short fight with a fatal ending, what more can 
you ask for? Mike didn't have time to be concerned about the dead guy. 
Because Gus, Gary and Barry were showering him with a hero's affection 
while claiming to everyone that Mike was the new king of the 
underground fighting scene. 

It was amazing how things changed after that victory. There were no more
corn mush meals being forced into Mike's mouth anymore. Now it was a 
warm cinnamon flavored oatmeal being served to the champion. Even 
though he didn't have a tongue, sometime when he'd close his eyes 
really tight, the distinct smell of cinnamon was so loud that he could 
almost taste it. The work outs were still tough. But now instead of 
sleeping on the hard ground, he had a brand new dog house that Larry 
built for him out of fresh cut oak wood. Overall, things were going 
pretty good for Mike. He'd recently become infatuated with chewing on 
the tiny frozen Avian ice cubes floating around inside of his silver 
platted water bowl. At the end of each night, he'd lay his head at 
Barry's feet like an old loyal hound dog. Asleep with one eye open to 
make sure that his master was safe. Who would've thought that Barry 
would end up being his knight in shining armor. Now doesn't that make 
you feel all fuzzy on the inside? 

Five weeks later it was already time to prove himself again. Time to
show his owner that he was more than just another one hit wonder. It 
was impossible for Mike to lose this fight, or was it? Around two 
hundred people showed up to bet on the fight. A collective gathering of 
degenerates, who foamed at the mouth, were on hand for the opportunity 
to either double or lose that months rent money. A shady bunch of 
individuals indeed. Their faces all seemed distorted and drunk with the 
worst form of greed. The type that's born from hopelessness. Mike's 
opponent was a bald short heavy set man with a huge collection of scars 
covering his face and head. This guy had survived some ruthless battles 
during his fighting career. It was literally written all over his face. 
Luckily, Mike paid it no mind as Gus hyped him up to release his inner 
monster. 

“We bet everything we have on this one Mikey boy! So bring me back his
throat!" “Fighters! Fight on my command!” The referee announced. “No 
retreat! No surrender! It's all or nothing Mikey boy!” “Fight!” The 
referee shouted. “Get him Mikey!” 

Mike exploded out of the corner like he had gun powder flowing thru his
veins. Unfortunately for him, his opponent wasn't intimidated at all by 
this ignorant display of fake rage. Instead, he introduced Mike to an 
old fashion game of give and take. Mike had already proved his ability 
to give out punishment. The only other unanswered question was, could 
he take it? The two men took turns destroying each other for the first 
fifteen minutes of the fight. Non stop action all the way through. The 
fights momentum switched back and forth, keeping spectators intrigued 
by what was taking place before them. 

If you're the type of person that's turned on by gruesome violence then
this was the fight to see. One for the ages. There was so much blood on 
the ground that one would've thought  Mother Earth was on her menstrual 
cycle. Good luck with finding a maxi pad to fit that size bush. The 
short heavy set man took control of the fight by unleashing a savage 
assault on Mike's genital area. He grinded his teeth deep into Mike's 
precious family jewels, while jerking his head from side to side, with 
extreme force. The pain was unimaginable. After a few more strong 
pulls, this guy had viciously detached Mike's  testicles from their 
roots and spit them on the ground. He was anxious to take another bite 
out of him, but it was too late. Mike had already tried to escape the 
fight with hope that medical attention would be arriving soon. This 
senseless attempt to retreat resulted in an automatic disqualification. 
The fight was over. 

The crowd erupted in laughter as Mike lay on the ground holding his
crotch in an unsuccessful attempt to stop the bleeding. Everyone 
thought that Mike's castration was the funniest thing they'd seen since 
stand up comedy. Well, almost everyone. Gus ran out of the crowd, blood 
boiling, with a gun in his hand. Mike closed his eyes to brace himself 
for what was coming next. 

“You cost me ten thousand dollars! You miserable cur!” Before he could
get to Mike, Barry tackled him to the ground and snatched the gun out 
of his hand. “He belongs to me Papa! Don't you even think about 
touching him!” Barry threatened as the crowd watched in silence. Mike 
slowly opened his eyes , relieved that his miserable life had been 
spared. “You're my best friend Mikey boy. That means more than you'll 
ever know.” Barry said with a stressed look on his face. Then he calmly 
pointed the gun at Mike's head and pulled the trigger. "No more pain 
buddy" 

Socrates once said that “Death may be the greatest of all human
blessings.” Now, I don't know what happens in the afterlife, but there 
weren't any tunnels filled with bright lights or brimstone lakes where 
Mike was headed. Actually, he woke up in the parking lot of Igor's Bar 
And Grill. Stretched out on the ground like a drunken vagrant on an 
early Sunday morning. He began wiggling his fingers and toes. Then he 
licked his lips slowly with his tongue. Surprisingly, all of his 
extremities were in place, and it had even stopped raining.. 

“That was the craziest dream ever.” He said to himself while breathing
out a sigh of relief. Right as he was about to stand up from off of the 
ground a malnourished pit bull, with a missing eye, walked up to  him 
growling as if he was ready to attack. “What do you want from me?” Mike 
asked with a strong hint of fear in his voice. Unexpectedly, the dog 
responded to his question. “Now that you've walked a mile on my leash, 
I want you to do whatever it is you think needs to be done.” Then, the 
dog simply vanished into thin air. 

After that experience, Mike would never be the same. Basically, his
entire perspective on life in general had changed. The self absorbed 
way of thinking that one life is more important than another, didn't 
exist in his mind anymore. He was a totally different person. A man of 
good morals and values. The first step he took after his moment of 
change was to turn himself in to the police. Mike confessed to every 
cruel act he'd ever committed on a dog. He even told them about every 
dollar he'd ever profited in a fight. On his day in court he stood 
before the justice system begging to be punished. Well, he got what he 
asked for. The judge said that Mike was an honorable man for turning 
himself in and accepting responsibility for his actions. Then he 
sentenced him to six months in jail. 

During those lonely days behind bars, Mike wrote a short story called
“The Dog Fighter.” It was about a dog fighter who learned first hand 
how inhumane his line of work was by walking in his dog's shoes. The 
story ended up being published in multiple dog lover magazines across 
the country and Mike evolved into the most recognized militant animal 
rights activist in North America. He believed that the only way to 
change cruel abusive people was to make them switch places with their 
victims. It worked for him. A large number of animal extremist 
organizations were paying Mike thousands of dollars every year to give 
motivational speeches at their private members only functions. Mike 
went from abusing animals behind closed doors to fighting for them on 
the front line. 

Now that's what it's all about. Taking something negative and turning it
into something else. You can change the world, but, you have to start 
with yourself first. They say that there's a moral to every good story. 
So, if you haven't at least picked up on one by now, then here's a 
little something for you to think about. All life is precious. Which 
means that every living thing should be treated with compassion. Always 
remember this or you might be the next predator to realize that it 
ain't no fun when the rabbit has the gun. 

This is a Mason Hung original Thanks for reading... .


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