Dimly through a reddish fog he is aware of gentleness and motion. A stunning smack to his entire body brings him that much closer to consciousness, and warm wetness washes over him. Struggling, he reaches out for life with all his being, and the kitchen floor flickers between his eyelids. **dog breath** He regains his strength exponentially and soon skitters out from under the dog's rasping tongue. A church bell somewhere begins the gentle, dull bonging of the witching hour as he hustles into the wall. **I'll never visit this place--