The day slipped into darkness, and moonlight cascaded onto the remote town.
From his pristine porch, Terry watched the midnight hound sniffing his lawn. Its silhouette resembled a large, unkempt greyhound. “Git,” he said, rushing into his garden.
The hound growled while holding a severed human arm between its jaws. Terry backed away, tripping over his hosepipe.
Vince appeared from the dark. “Look, Terry.” He grinned. “Cerberus is curling one out now. Why don’t you give him your best shot?”