Dingo Dogs and Settled Scores


Herbert was hungry again. He was feeling cornered. Reaching into his wallet produced
a crumbed and ripped five-dollar bill.
A dog was walking by. He recognized it. He whistled to get its attention. It was a scrawny dingo with a leather collar.
He looked up and down the street. He was heading for a small square-shaped building on the far side of town.
He looked back down and back up. The dog was still there. It was staring at him. “i wonder where its owner is?” he said aloud.
The building was a shack he rented for science experiments.
He was heading there to check up on his replication of the Cavendish Experiment. He looked at the dingo.
His stomach growled. They were a few miles from his destination. “Gotta go, friend,” he said.
He stepped past the dog. When he arrived he found the building was crawling with flies. He had ducked and jumped as they scuttled and flew down the front steps.
A familiar bark told him he had been followed.
He walked to the entryway. No one was visible. The dingo was more nervous than Herbert at this moment.
He sniffed the space around the entryway. “Something’s rotting.” Did he leave a ham sandwich behind last time he was here, he wondered? He turned the key in the
lock and opened the door. One step inside he heard a woman’s voice.
“Hey, Herbert.” It was Vanessa. “Close the door behind you. Leave the dingo outside please!” she was stern.
And he instantly could see why.
The two metal balls were on the floor. The hooks which had previously held them were suspending a corpse by holds punctured in the wrists.
“My g-g-g-g-g-g-g-god,” Herbert stuttered.
“God has nothing to do with this and you know it,” Vanessa shrieked. The dead man’s bowels are strung down between his stiff legs. Flies were swarming about the pool of offal on the floor between the metal balls.
Vanessa picked up a dagger and started to unbutton her blouse. She put her lips to his ear. “a little demonstration will speed things up.” As she spoke her breasts touched his. Herbert moved his limp hands away from her. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’m here.”
And now, without the use of his hands, he had strength.
His eyes flickered back to Vanessa’s. “Explain to me why you used my laboratory as a torture chamber again. I thought we had an agreement.”
“I know, Herbert, but you’ll understand when you see who it is. We caught a big fish this time.” She leaned in and whispered a name which sent chills up his spine:
“Marcus Goldfinch.”
The leash attached to one of the hooks that still held the dead man’s hand detached itself somehow and the corpse swung back and forth stiffly.

“Let’s do lunch,” he suggested. “Let the dingo feed while we’re out.”

The two friends exited the shack, allowed the dingo in, and walked hand in hand to Burger King.

Published by Tim Ozman

Host of Infinite Plane Radio and Dark Matter After Midnight. Author of THE METASCRIPT DECODED : The Great Reset, World Revolution, And The Age Of Mars. Tim Ozman has been at the cutting edge of conspiracy analysis and mainstream media deconstruction since 2017. As president of the Infinite Plane Society, he has been the project manager for a number of publicity stunts, performance art events, and a growing think tank comprised of like-minded individuals.

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