I seemed to have fallen asleep, because the next thing I saw was me getting picked up, leashed, and walked over into a scary building.
It was actually pretty cold. I shivered and shaked as I was pulled into the asylum-like place. It was dark, and I could see a reception table. There was a lady on her way out with big, poofy hair and wide hips.
"On you're way out?" The man holding onto my leash said.
"Yes. All the dogs are locked up. Do you have night shift again?" Poofy hair lady said.
"Yeah. Just gotta get this Golden Retriever locked up."
Locked up? I thought to myself, No no no that can't be right! I can't be locked up! I just cant!
In a desperate attempt to get away from being locked up, I started to bark.
I knew the man couldn't hear me
I knew he couldn't do anything about it
But I needed someone to help me get out of this
I needed to get back to Randall, I just needed to
So, I barked
and barked
and barked.
YOU ARE READING
Randall the Food Man
Non-FictionRandall is a little man, about 4'9'', with sleek brown hair that falls to his mid-thigh. 34 inches, to be exact. Anyways. Randall has lived his whole life with food.
