Trinity

Ol' Scooter Smalls mumbled to himself as he made his way around to the back of his cabin under the overhanging porch, which was more tunnel than porch. He'd closed in between roof supports with old mill slabs on three sides of his log cabin, leaving the front porch open, somewhat. On the front he'd closed in the porch at the railing height, creating a lower half wall. The effect was like a tunnel surrounding three sides of his cabin. It was cluttered with stacked firewood, stools,tools, ropes and oddball affairs of plain living accumulated over forty some odd years of living in the mountains way up Malcolm creek. Out behind his cabin was an old run down barn where he kept a couple of hogs, some small amount of hay and grain and an old mule. He'd built a roofed corridor from the back porch area to the front of the barn. That way he wouldn't have to deal with the snow in the winter time, which was piled up against the wall about two feet already. As he shuffled along the hard packed earth beside the cabin headed for the back porch, he was followed by a scruffy, one-eyed poor excuse of a hound/wire-haired terrier cross, who answered to the name of 'Jake'. Suddenly ol' Jake let's out an ol' hound dog beller and lit out around ol' Scooter like his tail was on fire! Ol' Jake slams into a big pile of rags and shovels an' rakes, handles flyin', rags an' dust a boilin', up out of the corner, ol' Jake just a snappin' an' carryin' on! His normally disheveled, wiry mess of hair now sticking up as a couple of more cans fall off the wall and roll across the floor. Dust hangs in the air. "You dumb sumbitchen', 'coon luvin', pig shit eatin' poor excuse for a hound dog! You like ta give a feller a heart attack!" shouted ol' Scooter. "What the hells a matter fer ya?" Ol' Jake turns and favors Scooter with his one good eye, sportin' about three eyebrow hairs, as if to say, "What?, you didn't see that rat?" Ol' Jake turns, farts, and trots over to glare under the back porch a minute before he inspects a bucket full if rusty timber spikes, to which he lifts his leg and throws a couple of squirts onto. "You worthless no account! I aughta' kick your ass from hell to breakfast! Like to took my feet plum out from under me with your carryin' on!" Ol' Scooter cussed Jake but good. Ol' Jake sat down, licked his asshole for a minute, checked his nuts, blew some snot and dust out of his nostrils and looked at Scooter. "Cripes all mighty, what I gotta' put up with. An' you prolly want me to feed ya to boot!" Ol' Jakes good ear perked forward at the mention of feed. "Come on ya flea bitten, ragtag, no account.... let's go check on Buster an' Sally an' that old mule fer cryin' out loud... You lop eared son of a varmit eatin'...." Ol' Scooter kept mumbling to himself as he passed through the roofed corridor towards the barn. Ol' Jake just sat there listening to the old man rant on, waiting for the squeak of the little door to the cupboard that had his dog treats inside. SqueaaaAAAIIIEEE!! Poor ol' Jake nearly shit himself at that wail!, but went rippin' through the corridor into the barn ready to tear hell outta' what ever was in there with his man friend ol' Scooter! He come a slidin' onto the hay covered floor barkin' his fear just as loud and hard as he could! Ready to fight or die as need be. He could smell blood and death in the air! The first thing he saw was his man friend's head up against where 'the Buster' lived. Right behind the head was a huge looming shadow bending down towards him with red eyes! Ol' Jake screamed his rage as he launched himself at the thing, his one good eye never leaving the red eyes of the creature until his teeth sank into the red orb and upper lip of his now 'to the death' enemy! Poor ol' Jake was still growling around a hunk of lip when he slammed into the far wall of the barn and blackness took him.