Rock Dog: The Retold Story

Chapter 3 - Spirit Chaser

Of course, Bodi knew his dad would never approve of a desire to become a musician, not when he was around.

As he hurried home from Fleetwood's place, the naïve mindset had to go. From now on, he had to tread carefully about his passion.

When he got home, Bodi bade his dad tonight, before preparing to go to bed. Even though he lived far away from Mengcheng, at least he should be grateful for adequate electricity and fresh water.

After a quick brush of his teeth and washing dirt away from his face, he changed into a set of pyjamas (a light brown cotton shirt and track pants) and entered his bedroom.

His bedroom was spacious for a one-mammal room. The super single sized bedroom was slightly too large for someone his size, with a side cabinet at the side and a table light. Another LED table light sits on top of a medium-sized and two-drawer wooden table. It was Bodi's study table after all and he had used it to write his own personal diary, reflecting the events of his past.

The home-schooling worked wonders, after all.

Bodi sat down on an identical wooden chair and started writing.

The morning and afternoon went by as per usual: homeschool, lying on the grass plain, et cetera. However, that evening, Uncle Fleetwood requested me to come to his place for a moment.

When I arrived, I was greeted by Uncle Fleetwood and the sight of the old guitar that Dad had locked up 14 years ago. I could not believe my own eyes that Uncle had taken it out, clean and repair my musical instrument, all in the space of about a day.

Regardless, I took the guitar for a spin and played a cover of a very aggressive metal song in a language I could not understand (Uncle recognised it as Hungarian language, whatever that means). Anyway, I played the song with so much energy and I started to feel something strange. I noticed a blue spark emitting from my paws, which gives me something. This was the "Fire" my Dad was repeatedly talking about for the past few years.

Anyway, now that I got back what I had lost, I wished my Dad would understand my decision I do not want to become the next sheep protector. I wanted to become a Rock Star.

Speaking of which, I suddenly had thought of some songs in my head. I hope I did not forget them.

Once Bodi stopped writing, he checked one of his drawers to discover a blank, black notebook. He picked up his ballpoint pen (that his Dad had provided), then he writes, and write and write.

Sooner or later, Bodi would have written lyrics of two songs in about an hour.

And he would not have realised that before he turned the lights out for the night.

8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8

From that fateful day onwards, Bodi kept a very low profile on his musical interest, knowing that it would not be long before Dad would find out.