"The candle's there for you, Scribb," she said. "I knew you'd find me."

"I guess it took me too long," I answered.

There was a man lying in the bed, covered by sheets. He had a handsome face on him, long brown hair; maybe just a trace of dog. One hand lovingly stroked Bridget's neck, whilst the other held open a book. I could see the title in gold, embossed, the sonnets of John Donne.

The bedroom looked clean and human in the candle's glow, full of the smell of flowers and incense. I guess this was more of Bridget's work; an attempt to mask the smell of dog. The flowers did a good job, but only just; the aroma of dog lingered like one of Dingo's bass notes.

And I got the picture of Bridget gardening this small human space, in the middle of Turdsville. What was that girl on? What was the motivation?

And why am I the last person to ask this?

Karli was on the bed with the young couple. She was trying to nudge the sheets back, getting her nose under there, her pink arse on display, raised up. Twinkle was sitting in an armchair, watching Karli's game.

I was watching all this from out on the landing, through the now wide-open door, with the breadknife still clutched, tight, in my right hand.

Bridget lit a cigarette in the blue shadows.

"We've come to take you out of here," I said.

Bridget turned back to me, her mouth full of smoke, giving me that old-time sleepy smile. "Look at the Thing," I cried. "Look what they're doing to him!"

"Yeah?" she answered, her voice a slow drawl.

"They've been eating him!"

"Eating who?"

I took a breath. "Bridget..."

"How's the Beetle these days, Scribble? He still pushing you around?"

"Beetle's doing fine."

So what was I supposed to say? Beetle's on his last moments.

He desperately wants to see you again, before he dies of the colours, so why don't you just come easy?

Would that have worked?

And where the hell was that guy anyway?

"This is my friend, Uber," she said to the man beside her. "Scribble."

"Good morning, sir," his voice lightly dog-touched. "May I say how pleased I am to be in your company."

"Scribble, this is Uber," Bridget told me.

"How could you do this, Brid?" I cried. "Tell me!" Bridget turned her sleeping eyes full on to me, and in the blue light, they looked like jewels.

"Uber is so very good. He takes me places." "Yeah. To a dogshit hole like this."

Uber threw the blankets back.

Karli was thrown with them, but he caught her in his human hands as he rolled out of the bed. He was a strong, young man, and he lifted the dog without struggle. Karli didn't mind. That robobitch was in love! She let herself be tumbled over onto his lap.

Uber was a beautiful creature.

A perfect split, straight across the middle. Sometimes it happens like that, once in a thousand matings. He was human from the waist up, dog from the waist down. He placed his fur- covered legs down on the floor, sitting on the bed, with the Karli in his strong arms. She was nuzzling up close to him, licking his face with a pink tongue. Uber moved his head away from her, giving me a slow look.

"I have been so looking forward to this," he said, in that dark voice. "Bridget tells me stories about you. I must say, I do find them rather amusing. She has a high regard for you, sir."

I didn't answer.

The shadows changing on the candle's breath.

He held out a long fingered hand. Sharp claws pushed through the soft pads of each finger, and when he smiled, his teeth were pointed, tiny shards of dog lodged in the human. "What's wrong?" he said. "Won't you shake my hand, sir?" He could retract the claws at will, and he did so now, presenting a soft hand to me, but still I wasn't tempted. "Don't you like me, Scribble? After all, I'm the one who saved Bridget."

"Saved her from what?" I asked.

"Why, from the pure life, of course."

"I'm taking Bridget back," I said.

Uber turned his face to the candle. He closed his eyes slightly against the glare. "Ah yes," he said. "I was expecting this. Dingo warned me thus."

"It's going to happen."

"Put down the food please, sir."

"I can't."

"Why's that?"

"I need the Thing."

"You call him a thing. That's shows little respect. Food is most precious, and should be treated accordingly."

"Fuck you."

Uber closed his eyes fully, for a moment, whilst stroking Karli on his lap.

"This is a luscious robobitch," he said. "I thank you for bringing her to me."

And as he spoke, he was moving his fingers between Karli's hindlegs.

"Scribble?" said Twinkle, from her chair.

"Don't worry, kid," I told her. "It's under control."

"Is it, indeed?" said Uber. "Under control? Is it under control? Oh good. Whose control?" And each word came darker than the last, and more dog-like, like he was losing it, the human, and getting one serious rag on.

"I'm walking out of here," I said.

"Don't push him, Scribb,'said Bridget

"I'm taking the Thing with me," I said. "You ready, Twink?"

"I'm ready," she answered. And then turned to the pet. "Karli!" she called.

Karli pricked up one ear towards Twinkle's voice, and then refolded it. "Come on, Karli!" Twinkle tried again. But I guess that dog was too happy. "You coming too, Bridget?" I asked.

She didn't even look at me.

Twinkle was on her feet, by my side.

Uber was stroking Karli on the neck, the underside, where she loved it the most. He blew out the candle, even from that distance, with a dog's breath. When he turned back to me, his human face was split by a pure canine grin.

"Don't let me do this," Uber said, tightening still further. And at first Karli let it happen, thinking it a touch of love. But then feeling it for what it was; an act of torture. Uber's fingers were squeezing on the windpipe, and his claws were coming out, pricking tiny jewels of blood from Karli's neck. He had an expert's knack of finding the soft flesh between the plastic bones. Karli was whimpering now, struggling to get loose. Uber parted his thick lips, showing those chiselled teeth. "I am Das Uberdog," he growled. "The world is my shitting place." And his eyes were wild, wild and free, as his claws tightened on the wet throat.

I made a struggling move, under the digging weight of the Thing, but Twinkle beat me to it. She launched herself forwards, hurling herself at Das Uber with all her young strength.

Uber bent a powerful dog-muscled leg in two, like a levered machine, so that Twinkle was pressed up against it, struggling to get Karli loose. Then Das Uber unflexed his leg, quickly and with a finely tuned force, that sent Twinkle screaming, backwards, to land at my feet.

"What is your reading of the situation, sir?" asked Das Uber. Blood from Karli's neck was leaking between his long human fingers.

"I think you smell like shit, "I said.

"Thank you,"he replied.

So I turned around.

Twinkle was clutching at my legs, trying to stop rne, crying out, "Scribble! Scribble! Don't leave us!"

But I just turned around, and walked away.

Some things ore more important than others, and if that makes me bad, then let it stand.

I was heading back down the stairs, the weight of the Thing on my shoulders and back, almost pulling me over.

Cold, like stone.

Twinkle was crying from above, but I was down on the first landing now, carrying the weight. Felt like I was carrying Desdemona herself. That's how I pictured it, the swap already made, just to get the blood pumping. Past the front room where the bitchgirl was licking herself to a frenzy. I could hear her whining from under the door. Around the corner, along the corridor, towards the kitchen, where all three dog people were now down on the floor, rolling around, travelling some mutant Vurt, fuelled by the Thing's flesh.