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Weekly Contest #37
Nemo ran into the house, eyes rolling and tongue lolling, his dark curly fur puffing in distress, his paws tracking dirt onto the carpeted floor. Robin stood in shock, but the fifteen-year old bit back a severe scolding when he saw the anxiety in his dog’s eyes. Instead, he patted the nervous furball’s head and followed him into the backyard. He froze at the edge of the sliding doors, eyes widening. Nothing in his young life could have prepared him for this. It was a calamity. The perfect crime. The mango pie was gone. Robin threw his hand...
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